


Angel of Darkness

by cucoo4cas



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:09:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 45,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucoo4cas/pseuds/cucoo4cas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Team Free Will goes to England on a confusing case, they aren't expecting to cross paths with Sherlock Holmes and The Doctor or to go to Purgatory again. Together, they face new enemies and unexpected challenges. After SPN's "Do You Believe in Miracles?", before DW's "The Day of the Doctor", and after Sherlock's "His Last Vow." Pairings: Destiel, 11/River, Johnlock, Sabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Wicked

A phone rang in a distant room in the back of the Men of Letters bunker. It sounded a bit like tinny ringing of an old 1940s phone.

Honestly, neither Dean nor Sam thought the bunker had a phone, at least not one that worked. Dean heard the ringing before Sam. He couldn't quite tell where the sound was coming from, but a lot of things in the bunker were disorienting for a demon, so he took it in stride. He still could tell Sam was walking down the hall just outside his door.

He got up off his memory foam bed and met Sam in the hallway. He could have teleported, but after his last fight with Sam about his being a demon, keeping the demonic powers to a minimum tended to serve him well.

Dean shot a grin at Sam, but Sam quickly averted his eyes. Dean tried not to let his brother's frosty attitude hurt him too badly. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it. He really should have listened to Cain's warning label. If he'd known about becoming a demon, he would not have taken the mark. Abaddon would've been a problem, but they would've worked it out.

But being a demon had some serious perks. He didn't like it, and it was seriously the weirdest feeling of disconnect he had with his own body, but hunting was so much easier. Being a demon was conducive to killing creatures, other demons, or whatever. It took less time, less effort, and felt pretty good, but he'd never admit that to Sam. Still, he didn't ask for this, but there were enough perks that when Sam insisted on curing Dean, Dean refused. There were several times where Sam and Cas attempted to trap him in order to shoot him up with Sam's blood, but Dean was smart. He'd teleport away, he cold-clocked Sam at least twice now to get him to stop with the human blood thing.

Sam's cold stare at Dean in the hall just served to remind Dean of the tedious state of life in the bunker. They continued towards the ringing.

After checking four rooms, Sam broke the silence by saying, "Where the hell is this phone?"

Dean shrugged in response.

"What, you can't just-?" Sam asked, cutting himself off.

Dean sighed, "No, the bunker has too many freaking wards."

"Well, the wards are there for a reason, Dean," Sam said curtly.

Cas appeared behind Dean abruptly.

"Jesus!" Dean snapped out of surprise at the angel's sudden arrival, "Dammit, Cas, warn a guy!"

Dean had figured that he'd be able to sense Cas after becoming a demon. But no. No, he couldn't. It was like Cas was dead. He could feel Sam's heartbeat, his pumping blood from wherever he was in the bunker, but Cas. Cas was like a ghost. He couldn't feel any energy from him or anything. And it was freaking weird. Dean was just glad that Cas didn't have his wings back. The little dude still walked around in expert stealth mode, but he couldn't just manifest whenever. If he ever got his wings back, Dean was getting Cas a bell.

Cas squinted at Dean's reaction but said, "Why is the phone still ringing? Is that normal?" They had been searching for the phone for several minutes, but the call was still coming through.

"Why can't anything ever be normal?" Dean grumbled as they continued to the next room.

Cas walked down the hall away from the brothers and gestured to a door. Sam opened the door and answered the oldest phone Dean had ever seen. It was a two piece phone with the receiver attached by a wire hanging on a hook.

Dean patted the top of Cas' head and said, "Good boy." Cas grimaced at him while Dean tried to ignore the tingling sensation in his fingers from touching Cas' hair.

Sam muttered into the phone, "Could you hold on for just a minute? Thanks." He held the receiver to his chest and snapped at Dean, "Dammit, Dean. Do you have to be ass all the time? Apologize to Cas and let me have this damn phone call."

Sam returned to the phone.

Dean clapped a hand on Cas' shoulder, "You know I'm just kidding, right, Cas?"

Cas nodded, "Yes, I am quite familiar with your inability to think before speaking."

Dean rolled his eyes, trying not to let his gaze linger on Cas' lips. The first time Dean had looked at Cas while his eyes were still black had been the worst decision he'd made in a long time. Cas' brighter than light angelic form was readily perceived, and Dean had a blinding headache for days as a result. With his trademark green eyes serving as a filter, Cas just looked like he normally did, which was slightly more good looking than Dean was entirely comfortable with.

He focused on what Sam was saying.

"Yeah, you called the right place. The Men of Letters have been disbanded for a while, but I'm Sam Winchester, we can still..." Sam said.

For whatever stupid reason, Dean couldn't hear the other end of the line.

"Okay, I've never heard of that. Have you considered witches?" Sam said, "Uh huh. Well, that's…Yeah, don't worry about it, we'll check it out."

Sam hung up the phone, and Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, waiting to hear the details.

Glancing at Dean but letting his gaze settle on Cas, Sam said, "So, get this. That was a hunter in England. They've got a case over there that they need some help with."

"How are we going to get to England?" Cas asked.

Dean grinned at Cas, "Well, we can travel Air Winchester."

Cas rolled his eyes.

"Not so keen on it now that you don't have the wings, huh, Cas?" Dean teased.

Sam sighed, "Stop it. No one's comfortable with it, and you haven't even heard what the case is."

Dean gave Cas an apologetic glance, and Cas shook his head like it wasn't a big deal.

Sam said, "Apparently, a teenager went missing about a week ago. He turned up in the hospital, dying, about a half hour later. But here's the thing. He died of old age."

"What?" Dean and Cas said in unison.

"They're sure it's not witches?" Dean asked. He remembered when he'd prematurely aged from a stupid poker game. It was witches then.

Sam nodded, "Yep. They've done a sweep for hexbags and the like. Not witches."

Dean grinned, trying to keep his giddiness under control. Maybe after he got them all to the UK in one piece, they'd realize how useful his demon mojo could be. He also really wanted to kill something, and a mystery something was better than most.

Within minutes, the three of them were packing duffle bags, getting ready to travel.

Cas walked into Dean's room with his packed bag, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Dean nodded as he struggled to pack his bag. He had a hard time justifying bringing anything when he could just pop back to the bunker in a pinch and grab whatever he needed. But he had to think about Sam and how upset his little brother was about all of this. He put a couple of shirts in the bag in case whatever they were hunting was able to bleed.

"Does it itch, being disconnected from your body like you are?" Cas asked.

Dean looked at Cas, frustrated. It did itch. And it wasn't something that he could just scratch away. The way Cas phrased the question made Dean feel very defensive.

"I suppose that's something you'd know a lot about," Dean said.

Cas sighed, "Don't look at me like that. I'd much rather see your eyes."

Dean hadn't even realized his eyes were black. He fixed Cas with an apologetic, green-eyed gaze.

"Better," Cas said, "It's disconcerting when I can't see your soul when I'm talking to you."

"What are you talking about, Cas? I don't have a soul anymore," Dean said.

Cas stepped closer to Dean, fully invading any and all personal space, and said softly, "Yes, you do. It's been twisted and tortured, and it is much darker than usual, but I can still see it shining within you."

Dean pulled away from Cas, trying not to show him how much that knowledge affected him. He was gonna be a piss poor demon if he felt so much relief knowing that his soul, while demonic, was still a soul.

"I do know a thing or two about being stuck in a vessel," Cas said, "If you need to talk."

Dean nodded at Cas' offer gratefully. It was nice to know that some part of his family was willing to accept him as is.

Cas left his room soundlessly. Quickly, Dean grabbed the First Blade and tucked it, wrapped, into his bag. He zipped it up and met Sam and Cas in the war room.

"Ready?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded and took Dean's hand. Dean tried not to let the physical contact distract him, but Cas' hand was really warm and comforting. Sam's face contorted into a concerned, displeased, angry, and hurt mess before he went tight lipped and eyed Dean warily.

They didn't have time for this. Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder and transported them all to London.


	2. Silence in the Librar

The Doctor waved a quick goodbye to Clara before popping back inside the Tardis. She really had no business jumping into his time stream. It did explain a few things, and he was immeasurably grateful that she saved him, but really the idea of jumping into his time stream was completely nonsensical. She's be okay, though. Well, he thought she'd be okay.

It was oddly quiet in the Tardis, and there was something bothering him.

River.

That infernal woman was getting under his skin from beyond the grave. Again. Even now, he could see her bossing him around, telling him not to leave the parking breaks on. She never really left the Tardis. She'd always be there to him.

Something was really bothering him about her. Of course, he couldn't have saved River Song. He'd barely managed to save her echo to the Library mainframe. But there was something.

"Oh, River," he sighed, eyeing the Tardis controls, "Causing trouble again, are we?" Mainframe. The Library mainframe. It was something.

"C'mon. Think, Rory!" the Doctor said to the empty Tardis. He closed his eyes. Why did everyone always leave? What was it about the mainframe? It was able to hold the human consciousness, so it had to be the most powerful computer ever built, especially since it housed so many.

The Doctor opened his eyes and slapped a hand to his forehead, wide eyed. How could he have been so stupid? He supposed it made sense since he didn't really know River when she died.

But the Library mainframe had to be the most powerful computer ever built, except the most powerful computer in existence wasn't the Library mainframe, it was the Tardis matrix. The Doctor always hated endings anyway.

Quickly, the Doctor flew the Tardis to the largest library in the universe.

Honestly, as the Doctor stepped onto the familiar wooden floors, he wasn't at all sure this would work. He'd landed an hour after his previous incarnation and Donna had left. Hopefully, any lingering Vashta Nerada would still be at bay waiting for the survivors to leave. He'd grabbed a flashlight just to be safe. It wouldn't deter the Vashta Nerada, but it would at least give him warning if they got too close.

He switched in the flashlight and ran to find the central computer. Luckily, after he'd transferred River's echo to the mainframe, he'd left the comm link next to the mainframe console. If he did this right, he'd have a matter of minutes to get back to the Tardis without killing his dead wife. Again.

As he approached the computer console, he noticed two shadows extending from the console pillar. Nothing involving River could ever be easy, could it? He shined his flashlight at the shadow to his left, saw light did penetrate the shadow, and took a few slow steps towards that shadow. As he aimed his sonic screwdriver at the discarded comm link to reverse the data transfer, his flashlight began to flicker. He should've had more time. Looking at the computer screen, he saw the date. Of course. He'd landed a year after Donna and the Tenth Doctor had left. Fantastic.

He seriously did not have enough time for this.

Quickly, River's echo returned to her comm link in the form of a steady blinking light. He grabbed what was left of River and ran.

The way he'd come was hopelessly dark. River's light was still flickering. He simply did not have the time.

The floors around him turned black as the darkness began to close in. He reached for the key at the back of his hair and called the Tardis to him. Clara was going to freak if she ever saw that stunt. Still, it came in handy.

As the Tardis materialized around him, the Doctor rushed River's comm link to the Tardis control panel and resumed the data transfer. This time, River would be home in the Tardis where she should have been in the first place.

The comm link light went out, and the Doctor raced to a monitor to see where River's data was. She was saved very close to the heart of the Tardis, but the old girl wouldn't let anything happen to River.

Bottom line: River Song had been saved. This was a much better ending, because it didn't have to be an ending. Maybe he could save her in a nestine duplicate. Even if he couldn't he would find a way to really save her. There was more time now.

As he started plotting a course for the nestine home world, the Tardis phone rang.

"Hello, you've reached the Doctor," he answered, "Who's this?"

A voice said, "Sherlock Holmes is dead."

The line went dead, and the Doctor stared at the phone. He looked at the date the call had originated from.

"That's not possible," he said.

River was going to have to wait a little longer. The Doctor quickly plotted a course for St. Bart's Hospital and hoped he got there in time.


	3. The Great Game

Sherlock ran down the street towards John and Mary's new flat. Honestly, their decision to live away from Sherlock was just ridiculous. He had no need for a car before, and he certainly didn't want to need a car now. And of course, their place wasn't far enough away to use a taxi cost effectively.

As he ran up to their front door, he supposed he could have called. It was after dark, though, so they would undoubtedly be home.

Sherlock rang the bell and waited, excited about the new case. When he saw the story in the newspaper, he was thinking of getting involved right then and there. This case was different and interesting. But when the boy's mother came by, asking for his help, the case became something else. It was now a challenge that Sherlock was all too willing to accept. Of course, when the client rang, and Sherlock noticed John's empty chair, he knew he must involve his friend in the case.

It just wasn't fun without him. Sherlock would never admit that John's presence helped him focus, and he most certainly would not let anyone know how much he enjoyed John's praises of Sherlock's deductions. Sherlock knew how clever he was. He didn't need anyone else to tell him. But it was...nice to hear.

Mary answered the door, asking, "Sherlock, have you any idea what time it is?" Suddenly, Sherlock did not feel so smart. He'd been expecting John to answer the door. Mary was pregnant, and it was very late. Sleep is important during the last trimester of pregnancy. Why didn't John answer the door?

"I have a case," Sherlock said.

Mary sighed and said, "You should really call next time, dear."

Sherlock nodded and took a few steps away from the door. He really shouldn't be bothering John. John had a wife with a child on the way. He didn't have time for Sherlock or cases popping up late at night. Sherlock was just in the way again.

"Sherlock?" Mary asked, "Where are you going?" Sherlock looked at Mary quizzically. She didn't want him to leave?

"You do want to see John, yes? He's inside," she said.

Sherlock smiled at Mary as he hopped over the threshold and past Mary. John wasn't in the living room, so Sherlock continued to John's bedroom.

"Hello, John," Sherlock greeted.

"What on earth are you doing here so late?" John asked. John set the book he was reading aside, sat up in bed, and looked at Sherlock with what seemed like worry.

"We have a case," Sherlock said, "Camden Phillips, a teenager, died today in the hospital of old age. He went missing a few days ago, but after he died, the DNA was a perfect match to Camden, and it was clear that the boy didn't go missing. He aged about eighty years and was unidentifiable in the hospital. What is that book you're reading?"

John registered the information about the case but turned all but red when he saw Sherlock was staring at John's book.

Sherlock crossed the room at John's reaction and grabbed the book before John could reach it. It looked like a poorly written attempt at a romance novel.

"What is 'Supernatural'? And why are you reading it?" Sherlock asked. John snatched the book from Sherlock, putting it back on the end table.

John said, "It's a fiction series, and I'm reading it, because it has a good story."

"It's a series?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. It's a series," John said.

"It looks awful."

"Well, that's your opinion."

"The publishing style is all wrong, the font they've used on the cover is actually supposed to repel readers, Carver Edlund is clearly a pseudonym and a bad one at that, and I can't imagine what kind of story would encourage readers to look past those factors."

John sighed and got out of bed, "That is still your opinion. Now, the case. Is there any way the DNA could have been tampered with? It's not like teenagers just age their entire lifespan overnight."

John walked past Sherlock and sat in his chair in the living room.

Sherlock nodded, following his friend. "That is one option," he said, "Perhaps the DNA was done wrong or misread. The body shall have been moved to St. Bart's by now. Let's look into it."

John's eyes widened slightly, and he asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

"It's late," Sherlock said, "But we have a case. The game is on."

John shook his head, "No. The game is not on. The game can be on tomorrow. I need sleep, Sherlock."

"You weren't sleeping. You were reading."

"Yes," John said, "Reading before bed is a fairly common practice."

Sherlock sighed, "Fine. Tomorrow."

John smiled gratefully and led Sherlock to the door.

As they approached the door, John asked, "It's a bit late for a taxi. How did you get here?"

"I ran," Sherlock said.

"You ran here?" John asked, "From Baker Street? In the middle of the night?" Sherlock stepped across the threshold and took a deep breath. It seemed perfectly logical to him why he used the methods he did to get to John's flat.

"Sherlock, that's ridiculous," John said.

Sherlock faced his friend and said, "It's not ridiculous. I needed to tell you of the case, and I was hoping we'd get working on it tonight. I don't own a car, you live too close to use a taxi but too far away to walk and not lose time. Running was the best option."

"You could've called before coming over."

"I wouldn't have had to if you still lived on Baker Street," Sherlock said.

John looked like Sherlock had slapped him, and honestly, that reaction confused Sherlock. He hadn't meant any offense. He was just telling John the truth. If John still lived on Baker Street, he wouldn't have had to run or call or come over. It would have made things easier and simpler.

"Are you saying that I shouldn't have moved in with my wife?" John asked, clearly irritated.

Sherlock sighed. That was obviously not what he meant.

Sherlock clarified, "No, I am simply stating that if you still lived on Baker Street, it would have been easier to tell you about the case. And I see no reason why Mary couldn't live on Baker Street. She could have moved in with you."

"No reason? I'm not sure Mary would be comfortable with body parts lying around in the fridge or bullet holes being blasted into the wall because you got bored," John said.

"That was one time. I don't think I understand—"

"You're a difficult person to live with, Sherlock," John said.

So, that was it. It was him. Sherlock was the reason John and Mary were inconveniently far away. He would be in the way. And it seemed that the distance still hadn't spared them the burden of his company.

Sherlock nodded and said, "I'll leave you to it, then." He walked away from the door and headed down the street.

"Sherlock," John said.

Sherlock ignored him and kept walking.

"Sherlock!" John tried again.

The sound of footsteps made Sherlock stop.

John ran up to Sherlock and said, "I didn't mean—"

Sherlock cut him off, "I'm going to St. Bart's to recheck the DNA."

John nodded and looked back towards his flat. "Well," he said, "I hope this case is worth going to St. Bart's in my pajamas."

Sherlock grinned as they walked towards the hospital.


	4. Freaks and Geeks

Dean materialized with Sam and Cas outside of St. Bart's Hospital in London. He was still rather new to traveling by thought, but he had a feeling this was the right place. While Sam and Cas gained their footing, Dean landed effortlessly.

He felt his eyes turn black as he scanned for any sign of people around. The building was empty, only the faint signature of electricity stuck out to Dean's heightened senses. The basement held the morgue, there were seven bodies down there. He could easily possess a corpse down there and get the information they needed.

But Sam was staring at him. His eyes returned to their natural green, and he looked at the ground. He knew it was a monster Sam saw when he looked at him. It made him feel self conscious at the very least.

"The place is empty," Dean said, "And there's a door around the side that has crappy wiring and probably won't set off an alarm."

Sam grimaced and asked, "Probably?"

"If the alarm goes off, I can pop us out of there before anyone notices," Dean assured him.

Sam walked towards the powerless door. "That's the problem," he muttered.

Dean sighed, frustrated. He was never going to get his brother back, was he? First, they're not brothers, then Sam's saying he does care, and now, Dean was fairly certain Sam would prefer him rotting in a pine box. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Cas touched Dean's shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. At least he had Cas. It didn't help the situation with Sam, but it was something. Dean broke eye contact with Cas, and they followed after Sam.

They got into the morgue without much trouble. "It's this one," Sam said, reading the name on the morgue drawer door, "Camden Phillips." Dean and Cas both looked at the corpse as Sam opened the drawer. It was definitely an old man.

Cas said, "It wasn't witches."

"How can you tell?" Dean asked.

Cas explained, "When witchcraft is involved, it affects the energy. See?"

Dean looked at the body and saw only a body.

"No," Cas said, "Human eyes can't see energy signatures." Dean turned his eyes black and pointedly did not look over at Sam.

The body had arrays of blue, white, and purple light bouncing from atom to atom. Dean had gotten accustomed to seeing Sam like that occasionally, but the body's energy was much more subdued probably due to the fact that Camden was dead.

Cas said, "If witchcraft is involved, the energy gets disrupted. You'll see a break in the flow somewhere where witches used the energy or manipulated it somehow. No witches have touched the body."

Dean nodded, trying to hide his excitement at learning something new about his mojo.

Sam scoffed, "Hasn't Crowley taught you all of your powers yet?"

Dean glared at Sam, only realizing his eyes were still black when Sam cringed away from him.

"The last time I saw Crowley, I punched him in the face," Dean said flatly.

Before anyone could say anything else, the door to the morgue opened. A tall man in a long black coat approached the Winchesters quickly. "Who are you?" he asked.

Dean turned towards Cas and met his gaze to make sure his eyes weren't demonic. Cas stared back, and the lack of reservation in the eye contact was all the assurance Dean needed. He quickly turned to the newcomer and said, "We're Agents Plant, Stanley, and McCartney from Scotland Yard."

The man encroached on Dean's personal space and tilted his head to the side in a way that really reminded Dean of Cas.

"You're agents from Scotland Yard with American accents?" the man said, calling their bluff.

Dean struggled to grasp at another lie but was stopped by another, shorter man entering the room.

"Are you-you're not-?" the short, blond man stammered.

"John?" the taller man asked.

The shorter man, John apparently, walked up to Cas. "You're the angel, Castiel," he said.

Cas squinted at John, confused.

"How do you know who he is?" Dean asked, defensive.

John looked at Dean and laughed to himself like he was losing his mind.

"Sherlock," John said excitedly, "These are the characters from the Supernatural books. I'd bet my life on it."

Dean and Sam shared an exasperated look, which left Dean feeling slightly hopeful about his brother.

Sherlock sighed, "That's not possible."

"What else could explain it?" John asked, "They used musician names as aliases, they're obviously looking at the body for clues, and who but Castiel could have eyes like that?"

"You know, you're not the usual demographic," Sam said to John.

"Yeah," Dean said, "It's usually women and gay guys. What, are you and scarfy over there together or something?"

John shook his head, clearly frustrated. "No, we aren't," he said tight lipped, "And I'm not gay. I just read for the plot. It's a good story."

Dean saw Sherlock's jaw clench imperceptibly and wondered if John didn't just have his head up his ass about his feelings.

"Well, it's not boring, I'll give you that," Dean said, grinning.

"I can't wait to tell Mary," John said.

Sam asked, "Who's Mary?"

"My wife."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Mary and John? Really?

"Like today wasn't weird enough," Dean muttered.

Sam said to John quickly, "Don't have kids."

Before John could reply, Sherlock said, "This is ludicrous, John. You expect me to believe that characters from a paperback series you like happen to be real? I'm a sociopath not a moron."

Cas stepped in front of Dean. He asked, "Would some proof help us get back to the case at hand?"

Sherlock fixed Cas with a hard stare and said, "Impress me."

Cas grabbed Dean's hand, which both startled Dean and sent his heart into overdrive.

"If I prove to you that I'm an angel, you'll help us with this case?" Cas asked.

Sherlock nodded, scrutinizing Cas with a gaze that Dean wasn't entirely comfortable with. Dean realized why Cas grabbed his hand and felt like an idiot.

Cas said, "Okay," and Dean teleported them to the hospital roof.

Cas stumbled a bit when they landed on the dark roof. Dean held Cas to him to keep him from falling.

"You're right," Cas said, "It's weird not having the wings anymore."

Dean smiled down at Cas.

"Cas," Dean breathed.

Cas stared back at him.

"Are you guys gonna make out or-" Gabriel said from next to them.

Dean and Cas jumped apart.

"Gabriel? What the hell?" Dean shouted.

Gabriel grinned while staring off in the distance. Cas walked over to his brother and slapped him across the face.

"I thought you were dead!" Cas yelled.

Gabriel held a hand to his face and looked at Cas in shock. Quickly, his eyes darted back to where he'd been staring.

"Shit," Gabe breathed, "Apologies later. We're in trouble." He grabbed Dean and Cas and transported them downstairs.

"We need to go," Gabriel said.

"Who the hell is this?" Sherlock asked.

Sam and John gasped in unison, "Gabriel?"

"Yes, hi. I'm alive," Gabe said, "We need to go now!"

A crash came at the door.

Gabriel stared at the door and ordered, "Bunker. Now."

Gabriel grabbed Sherlock and John while Dean put hands on Sam's and Cas' shoulders. The door burst open, and they were all safely in the war room of the Men of Letters bunker.

"What was that? Why are we here? What's going on?" John asked.

"It was an angel," Gabriel said.

Sherlock sat in a chair with a far off gaze.

"Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock waved him off.

"Which angel?" Cas asked.

Gabriel shook his head, "It's not an angel like us. It's a living angel statue. I've never seen anything like it."

Sherlock stood up quickly. "Do you have a phone?" he asked.

Sam nodded and handed him his cell phone.

"I know someone who's seen something like this before," Sherlock explained. He punched in numbers and waited in a room full of silent confusion.

"Hello, Doctor," Sherlock said, "You said to call if I needed help, and I believe we need your help."


	5. Flesh and Stone

The Doctor rushed to the phone, which he really needed to patch back through to the control panel. He'd get to it eventually.

He grabbed the phone, dangling one leg out into outer space, and laughed, "Sherlock Holmes. Did not think I'd be getting a call from you today." After listening long enough to hear the inspector say the words 'statue' and 'angel' in the same sentence, the Doctor said, "I'll be at Baker Street in a jiff."

"No, Doctor, we're in America," Sherlock said quickly.

"What the bloody hell are you doing there?" the Doctor asked, looking at a screen monitoring the call, "What's in Lebanon, Kansas? Seems like a bit of a hole in the wall, really. Doesn't matter. I'll be there in...now."

The Doctor slammed the phone back on the receiver and ran to the console, putting in coordinates for Lebanon, Kansas of all places.

His mild confusion was replaced by sheer curiosity when the Tardis refused to land at the coordinates. He set her down across the street and opened the door, not sure what to expect.

Well, it certainly wasn't that. The Doctor approached a small door that looked about as unassuming as any small storm shelter. What was in there that his Tardis couldn't materialize? He pulled out his sonic and tried to unlock the door. Sparks flew from the lock in response. That was...unexpected.

Hesitantly, the Doctor raised his hand and knocked on the door. What was this place? What was going on? The door opened, and he was greeted by Sherlock and a rather tall man in plaid that he was sure he'd never met.

"What is this place? Why couldn't I land in here?" the Doctor asked, stepping through the door. It was just an old war bunker. Looked like 1940s technology was at work.

"Who is this?" the truly giant man asked Sherlock.

The Doctor whirled around and said, "I'm the Doctor. Here to help with your weeping angel problem. And you are?"

"Sam Winchester," the man said.

For some reason, that name rang a bell, but the Doctor didn't know why. Oh, well.

"Well, Sam," the Doctor said, "Do you know why I couldn't land in here?"

"Land what?" Sam asked.

The Doctor sighed. It always took too long to explain the Tardis. A few more men milled out from down a hall somewhere.

"Well, you're not human," one of them said.

The Doctor flew down the steps excitedly, making more than one of the men in the room assume a defensive stance.

"Takes one to know one," the Doctor said. The man appeared human. Human hair, clearly protein. Human eyes, amber in color. All very human except...that. There was a glowing white glint far behind the man's pupil. Completely unnoticable by humans.

"Using a host. Fascinating," the Doctor said, "What's your name?"

"They call me Gabriel," he said.

The Doctor grinned, "What are you?"

"You first, bub," Gabriel said.

"I'm a timelord, the last actually," the Doctor answered.

One of the men, who had a particularly hard, war worn expression, rushed at him with a knife. Gabriel threw him against a wall with a flick of his wrist. Interesting. Telekinesis was very rare, even among non humans.

"Cas, please help Dean keep a hold of himself," Gabriel said. A blue eyed man, Cas presumably, nodded and helped Dean up.

"Excuse me," Sam interrupted, "What were you trying to land?"

The Doctor smiled, looked at Sherlock, and led them out to his magical blue box. He loved showing people the Tardis.

"What's that?" John asked.

The Doctor grinned at him, "Good to see you here, John. And that is my Tardis."

"Have we met?" John asked. The Doctor shot a look at Sherlock but received no cue. Did he tell him?

"After I saved Sherlock from the hospital roof, we went to the cemetery to see Sherlock's grave, so I saw you from afar but mostly Sherlock's told me about you," the Doctor explained.

John flushed red slightly, jaw clenching as he said, "A moment, Sherlock?"

"But you should really see-" Sherlock protested.

John snapped, "Now, Sherlock."

They walked away, leaving the Doctor with the four unfamiliar people. Guess Sherlock hadn't told him. Interesting.

The Doctor snapped his fingers to open the door and tried not to remember when River told him he could do that.

He led the others inside and said, "Welcome to the Tardis."

Dean and Sam both took a peak back outside but seemed to accept the Tardis quickly, muttering something about "fucking inter-dimensional portals." The Doctor was going to correct them when he noticed the look on Gabriel's face. The being was somewhere between confusion and awe. It was always the Doctor's favorite reaction when someone found his Tardis as beautiful and amazing as he did.

"You never told me your species," the Doctor commented as Gabriel and Cas both gazed around in wonder.

"I'm an archangel," Gabriel said distractedly, "Is this what I think it is?"

"Depends on what you think it is," the Doctor said, "This is a time machine and a spaceship among other things."

"There's a soul in here," Gabriel said.

"That's because she's alive," the Doctor said quickly, "You've got to show me your true form sometime." Gabriel flicked a look at him before continuing to take in the interior of the Doctor's box. An archangel being able to sense souls wasn't entirely surprising, but the Doctor was still skeptical about the whole angel thing. In all his time, he'd only heard about them in human lore, but it did remind him of the task at hand.

"I've only heard rumors...legends of a protector in a blue box saving the humans... but I never thought-," Cas said.

"Rumors and legends is how I get around," the Doctor said, clapping his hands together, "Now, who's seen the statue, where did the last victim live, and why am I the only one asking these questions?"

Gabriel said, "I've seen the statue."

"Did you look it in the eye?" the Doctor asked, looking closely at Gabriel's eyes.

Sam cleared his throat purposely as Gabriel shot Sam a smirk and said, "No."

Sherlock sat with an arm around a bewildered John, who had just met the Tardis, and said, "I know where the victim lived. It's back in London."

The Doctor directed Sherlock where and how to put the coordinates in when Gabriel said to Cas, "I swear there's another soul in here. Don't you feel it?"

Cas shook his head, his eyes roaming the Tardis and finally settling on Dean.

The Doctor released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Until he knew more about the Winchesters and the archangel, the Doctor didn't want them to know about River's vulnerable state.

He looked at a scanner of his companions. That was...troubling. Troubling was a good word for it. Sherlock, John, and Sam appeared to be human. He didn't know what he was seeing on Dean's scan, but it was pretty dark. Cas seemed empty. There was a bit of a glow, but it was almost like seeing a hollow shell of a person. Gabriel certainly looked bright enough to be an angel, and the glow emanating from the screen did make it appear like he had wings. Further investigation was most certainly needed. Telling anyone about River was becoming a much more remote idea.

"So, if we're going back to London," Dean said, "Shouldn't we be getting back on Angel Airlines?" The Doctor laughed and used Sherlock's coordinates with the mapping computer.

"Did you not hear the part where I said 'spaceship?'" the Doctor asked. "Geronimo," he said as he flipped a lever and sent them flying to London.

The quiet street that young Camden lived on was just that, a quiet street. Not a single statuesque angel in sight.

"Is there any way to track it?" Sam asked.

Gabriel shrugged, "I was just following by sight. Staring at it is incredibly helpful."

The Doctor tossed a DVD to Sam and said, "Any information you might need on the weeping angels is on there. Also, don't take a picture of them, and for god's sake, don't look them in the eye." The group of his companions gathered around a monitor to watch his tenth incarnation give the rundown on weeping angels, which he'd added Sally Sparrow's lines to, of course.

But Sam Winchester was right. They were going to need a way to track the angel. The only way that could happen is if the Doctor could get his hands on weeping angel DNA, and stone doesn't exactly bleed. They'd have to figure something out.


	6. A Study in Statues

As it turned out, finding a singular angel statue in London was exceedingly hard. To be perfectly honest, Sherlock didn't know what he and John were doing here. They were just humans. What could they possibly do to help against something so supernatural? Sherlock could bring criminals to justice, but this wasn't anything he was prepared to deal with.

Still, when he slunk away from the others, John followed him, expecting him to help or come up with some brilliant idea that would fix everything. He hated letting John down.

"Sherlock," John said, "Where are you going?"

"I'm..." Sherlock started.

What was he doing? He was walking down the street away from the Tardis, going back to Baker Street where he knew he could still help.

"I'm going to consult my contacts," he lied. But that was actually a good idea. A whole network of eyes on the London streets able to spot a statue and get back to him in a moment's notice.

"That's an outstanding idea," John said enthusiastically.

Sherlock grinned at his partner. As the walked down the street, it started to feel like old times. Just John and him solving unthinkable crimes side by side. It was nice...until John's phone rang.

"Sam? What? Slow down. Where are they?" John said into his phone.

Of course, Sam Winchester had John's number. It only made sense to keep in contact while conducting a search for the stony assailant. The concern on John's face annoyed Sherlock to no end, however. They barely knew these people if they were even people. Why did John care so much? The answer to that, of course, was just John's nature. He always cared. Even for Sherlock. He tried to find John's concern for the Winchesters endearing and remember that he was John's best friend and shouldn't be getting jealous over a phone call.

John pocketed his phone and said, "We don't need your network. Dean and Castiel found the statue."

"What? Where?" Sherlock asked.

"Regent's Park," John said, "They're staring it down right now. We have to go."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, "How can we possibly help in this situation? We're only human." Really, John probably was an asset because of reading the Supernatural books, but Sherlock had no business dealing with these completely irrational creatures.

"Sherlock," John said, "We need to go. At the very least, the more eyes on the angel the better. But we don't know how to kill or contain these things. You're the smartest person we've got. Maybe you'll come up with something. Even if you don't, it's better than just giving up because you feel overwhelmed."

"I do not feel overwhelmed," Sherlock argued.

John rolled his eyes, "I don't believe that for a second, Sherlock, but we need to go now." Sherlock nodded, grabbed John's hand, and ran back to the Tardis. Within seconds, Sherlock, John, the Doctor, Sam, and Gabriel spilled out of the Tardis and into Regent's Park.

"About time you guys showed up," Dean said, "Cas can only stare at a statue for so long."

"Actually, Dean, I have no need to blink," Cas said.

Sherlock stepped closer, circling the statue. It was certainly made of stone. Its wings were almost as tall as Sherlock, himself.

"So, what do we do with it?" Gabriel asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "The last time I faced these things, they got sucked into a crack in the fabric of space and time and erased their own existence," he said, "Before that, we got four angels to stare at each other, keeping them locked in their stone state. There's only the one angel here, and I have no crack in the universe to dispose of it in."

Sherlock continued to circle the statue. It must have some weakness, something they could work with. Normally, Sherlock could deduce something from objects or people. This statue was covering its face with its hands as sign of trying not to kill itself by staring at another angel or a mirror. Normally, Sherlock would think it was a sign of fear or submission, but watching the Doctor's video had been informative and explained the gesture. Its wings were splayed like it had landed just as Castiel had seen it. Could weeping angels fly? The Doctor said they could move faster than people could see, but was flying even a possibility for the statue?

Sherlock noticed Castiel look at him curiously. But if Cas was looking at him, was anyone looking at the weeping angel?

Before Sherlock could look at the statue or say anything to the others, they were gone. Or, more accurately, he was gone.

Sherlock was still definitely in Regent's Park, he could recognize the curve of the ground, but the trees were all different. He wondered how far back in time the angel had sent him and when thoughts of pondering his own trip through time had become commonplace. Surely, the Doctor could pick him up in the Tardis. He'd saved him before, he could do it again. But no blue box appeared. Sherlock sighed and tried not panic. He knew where he was, but if there would be a chance to get back, he needed to know when he was.

There was a man sitting on a nearby bench holding a newspaper.

Sherlock took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn't alter history too much. "Excuse me, sir," he said, "Might I take a look at your paper?"

The man looked up, startled. Sherlock looked from the short, mustachioed man to the paper in his hands, but the man made no move to respond to Sherlock's request.

"I said might I take a look at your-nevermind," Sherlock said.

He snatched the paper from the man's hands. August 12th, 1886. If no one rescued him, he'd be extremely lucky to live long enough to see his own time. Perfect.

He plopped onto the bench next to the man. 128 years in the past.

Sherlock thrust the newspaper back at the man and said, "Sorry about that. I just needed to-"

"You came out of nowhere," the man stammered.

Sherlock said, "Yes, I suppose I did. That's...new."

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"Sherlock Holmes. And you are?"

"I'm Arthur," he said, "Are you an extra terrestrial?"

Sherlock closed his eyes in irritation. He couldn't be a scientific anomaly or a magician or something slightly more reasonable. Arthur had to jump to the conclusion of alien.

"No, I'm a detective," Sherlock said.

"There you are!" Gabriel shouted. Sherlock and Arthur jumped at the sudden appearance.

"Is this something you people do?" Arthur asked, "Just pop out of nowhere?"

Gabriel put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and grinned at Arthur, "We don't just appear. We also disappear. Tootles!"

The next thing Sherlock knew, he was standing next to John and the Tardis. Gabriel dropped to his knees, gasping, as Sam rushed to his side. Time travel seemed to have taken a toll on him.

"Oh thank God," John said, seeing Sherlock in one piece.

The Doctor rushed out of the Tardis and dragged Sherlock inside.

"Do you realize what you've done?" the Doctor asked.

Sherlock said, "If you're referring to borrowing Arthur's newpaper-"

"Arthur! You're on a first name basis with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!" the Doctor said, pointing at a screen in the Tardis.

"Should I know who that is?" Sherlock asked.

Obviously, Arthur was knighted for something, which did strike Sherlock as a bit odd, but...and then he saw it. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Author of the Sherlock Holmes Novels.

Sherlock said in utter disbelief, "What."

"Luckily, you only redirected the course of literature and pop culture," the Doctor said, "But if you ever get zapped back in time again, just wait for us. Don't go talking to people who might start writing books about you, hmm?"

Sherlock nodded, still staring at the screen. There were books about him. What. This information would take a lot of processing to deal with. Sherlock quickly left the Tardis to continue studying the angel statue, which made much more sense in comparison.

Sam and Dean were arguing quietly under a tree, Castiel occasionally interjecting, presumably to stop the fighting. Gabriel was watching the Winchesters while leaning against the Tardis.

John looked at Sherlock and asked, "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"Someone wrote a book series about me over a hundred years ago," Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock ignored him. "Where's the angel?" he asked.

Gabriel looked over to the spot where the statue had been. "I thought Cassie had it covered," he said, "But it disappeared the same time you did."

Castiel wandered over to them and said to Sherlock, "I am so sorry. I wasn't thinking. Your thought process was fascinating to watch, and I took my eyes off of it. It's my fault."

Dean put a hand on Cas' shoulder. "We'll find it again," he said.

Sam looked over at Sherlock with a less than sure expression on his face.

So that was it, then. The weeping angel was missing again.


	7. Appointment in Samarra

Dean and Cas stood at the registration desk of a small motel near the park where they'd found the weeping angel. As much as the Doctor insisted they'd be safest in the Tardis, Dean really just wanted this to be like any other case. So that meant a shitty motel room near the crime scene. Sam decided to stay with the Doctor and make sure that Gabriel was recovered from saving Sherlock.

He also said something about helping find a way to track the angel statue, but Dean got the feeling Sam was staying much more for Gabriel than any tracking ideas. If anything else happened with his brother and that feathery asshole of an archangel, he'd start thinking there was something going on there. Dean looked at Cas and knew stranger things have happened than hunters maybe having feelings for angels.

Finally, the clerk came out and handed them the key to their room.

Once in the room, Dean plopped on one of the beds and sighed happily. It wasn't his memory foam mattress, but it finally felt like a hunt. Shitty motel room, a dead body in a morgue, a creature on the loose, and an angel staring at him intensely. Just like a normal case.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows. "You got something to say, Cas?" he asked.

Cas walked over and sat on the opposite bed. "I think it's smart that you haven't told the others about being a demon," he said.

"Well, knowing that John's read the books, he'd probably try to exorcise me or cure me like Sam," Dean said.

Cas bit his lip and looked at his hands.

The fallen angel said, "Would it really be so bad?"

"What?" Dean asked, sitting up, "Of course it would be bad! How can you guys not see how useful this demon thing is?"

"That's not what I-" Cas started.

"And you know exorcism would send me straight to hell," Dean said. What if that was what Cas wanted? Better Dean rot in hell than be polluted by being a demon, right? Okay, may he was projecting.

"Do you like being a demon, Dean?" Cas asked.

Dean said, "What? No. It's freaking annoying. I mean there's perks, but-"

"Then, why won't you let Sam cure you? You know we can cure demons. We'd never do anything to hurt you." "I don't want to lose the only advantage we have," Dean said. It was a lie, well, partially a lie. He did have some serious advantage that made it worth it, but mostly, Dean didn't want his family having to clean up his mess. He asked for the Mark of Cain. He knew there were consequences, and he was stupid enough not to ask questions. He got himself into this mess, he'd get himself out.

Cas sighed, "What's the advantage if you hate yourself?"

Dean looked at Cas. He really didn't get it.

"Cas, look at me," Dean said. He caught Cas' gaze with demonic black eyes.

"It doesn't matter if I see these in the mirror, or these," Dean said, changing his eyes back to seemingly human, "I've always hated whatever stared back at me. Being human isn't going to change the amount of hatred I deserve, especially if I have to get weaker in the process."

"Dean, I-" Cas tried.

Dean asked, "What do you see when you look at me? Do you see some sort of hero or somebody to be proud of? If you do, we aren't seeing the same thing. I'm poison, Cas, and definitely cursed."

Cas moved over to Dean's bed and put a hand on his shoulder, right where he'd touched to pull Dean's soul out of hell. Dean tried to ignore the heat coursing through Cas' touch. The look in Cas' eyes was heartbreaking. Dean didn't deserve someone in his life that cared about him so much. Sam was born into it, being blood and all, so he got that. But Cas was here by choice. Or for lack of any other friends on earth.

"You are more than you give yourself credit for, Dean Winchester," Cas said, "You once told me you'd rather have me, cursed or not. I'd be a poor friend if I didn't return the sentiment."

Dean looked at Cas but was at a loss for words. Cas didn't know how much hearing that meant to Dean. And Dean didn't know how to tell him.

"New subject. What are you going to do about your batteries?" Dean asked.

Cas took his piercing blue gaze away from Dean's face. "I don't know," he said, "I still need it, so I can't just become human, but I don't know how to replenish it. I broke the angel tablet, so I definitely can't use Metatron's method. I'll figure something out."

"Why do you still need it? Why not rip the grace out?" Dean asked.

Cas met Dean's eyes for a second but quickly studied the floor. "It's complicated," he said.

"Too complicated for me to understand?" Dean asked, "Talk to me."

"I need it for you," Cas said hesitantly.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

Cas took a deep breath and looked Dean straight in the eye. He said, "I don't want you to have to be alone. Sam's mortal and I care about you too much to just-"

"Woah, Cas. You're talking about sticking with me forever. Like literally forever. Why would you-"

"I love you," Cas blurted.

Dean's breath caught. He stared at his friend. Cas couldn't love Dean. He didn't deserve that sort of thing. He was barely worth everyday courtesy let alone the affection of an angel. But the admission still had Dean's heart soaring. What could even say to that? That he was sorry for all the shit he put Cas through over the years? That he should've known how Cas felt? That he should've told Cas he felt the same way? Where could he even begin to look for forgiveness? Then again, he got the feeling that he didn't need Cas' forgiveness. That there was nothing to forgive. Even through the shock of thinking someone so amazing could possibly see something in Dean as demented as he was, it was the best he'd felt in a long time.

"Cas-" Dean started.

A knock at the door prevented his thought from finishing. Dammit.

"We're not done with this conversation," Dean said.

He got up and opened the door. A package sat outside the motel room. This is what he cut short that important conversation for? He grabbed the box. It was addressed to "Sherlock and the Angels."

"What is it?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged and opened the box. Inside sat a small tv screen and a portable dvd player.

The tv screen blinked to life with the image of a scrawny man in a suit with a weird, psycho grin.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes," the guy said, "How's life on the side of angels when I'm the one with marble angels? I know, I just couldn't stay away. Miss me?"

The video froze in place, and Dean looked at Cas. Cas looked back at Dean with the same amount of confusion and fear than Dean felt.


	8. Cold Blood

"If we only had a piece of the statue, that'd be something," the Doctor said, pacing in front of the Tardis console. If they had some material of it, they could track the stone to the source, but that would be easy, wouldn't it.

Gabriel sat on the steps near the console and sighed, "What use is finding the thing if we don't know how to kill it?"

The Doctor faced the archangel sharply, "Who said anything about killing it? This is a creature older than time itself, and you're thinking of destroying it?"

Gabriel stood up and matched the Doctor's intense stare. "I am a creature older than time itself," he said, voice low, "And I've watched my brothers die. Just because you're untouched by time doesn't mean you're beyond death. If the weeping angel keeps killing people, we will have to stop it, destroying it if necessary."

Sam stepped up and put a hand on Gabriel's chest to put space between him and the Doctor. The Doctor returned to pacing, trying not to think about killing such a fascinating creature. There was a difference between dying and never existing. He hoped they'd find another way.

"Well, as far as doing something with the statue, we should have a plan," Sam said.

Gabriel walked quickly to the control panel, agitated. "What is that?" he snapped.

The Doctor looked at Gabriel curiously. Something was clearly bothering the angel other than the weeping angel situation.

"There's a soul in here," Gabriel said, feeling the Tardis console, "Why is there a soul in here?"

The Doctor replied quickly, "I told you before, the Tardis is alive."

Gabriel faced the Time Lord and said through gritted teeth, "No. I know that. I can feel the heartbeat. But there is a soul, a living human soul, in there. No, not human. It feels like you, but it's close. Why do you have a soul here?"

Fantastic.

The Doctor looked from Gabriel to Sam, and tried to think so something that would appease their confusion without giving away River.

Sherlock and John walked back into the Tardis with food from a shop down the street.

"Did we miss something?" John asked.

"No," the Doctor said.

"I may be a shitty excuse for an archangel," Gabriel said quickly, "But you have a freaking soul in there, and I want to know why."

The Doctor looked at Gabriel. He saved Sherlock earlier without a second thought. He obviously cared about the Winchesters. And he would undoubtedly be a threat if further provoked. The threat outweighed the risks.

"It's my wife," the Doctor said quietly. He begged the angel silently not to pry any further.

Sherlock asked with a subdued amount of shock, "Your what?"

The Doctor sighed. He preferred keeping things on a need to know basis, and this was something none of them needed to know.

"My wife. She died. It's complicated," the Doctor said quickly.

Gabriel asked, "How did she die?"

The Doctor pushed old memories of River electrocuting herself from his thoughts. "I would really rather not-" he started.

"I can save her," Gabriel said.

"I already saved her," the Doctor said, defensively, "She's safe in the Tardis. It's not a permanent-we have more pressing..."

Sam gave the Doctor a soft, sympathetic look he'd seen on his companions a thousand times. The Doctor braced himself for something he obviously didn't want to hear.

"Doctor, if her soul is in there, even dormant, it needs a body," Sam said, "I've seen plenty of spirits. When they're not in their meat suits, it never ends well."

"What do you expect me to do, then? I don't have any spare bodies, and right now the angel problem takes slight priority over finding a flesh duplicate or something to that effect," the Doctor said quickly, returning to the console. Maybe he could track temporal displacement in the city. Maybe if weeping angels traveled fast enough, the angel would pop up on a scan.

"I can save her," Gabriel said, "Right here, right now. Body and everything. The whole shebang."

That wasn't possible, and the Doctor knew it. But he only had one questions. "Why?" he asked.

Gabriel grinned, "Mostly, because having such a bright soul humming about is very distracting, but I am dying to see who in the world married you. And we could probably use the help. Say the word, Doc."

The Doctor pulled up the scan of the heart of the Tardis and saw where River's energy was saved. It was still there, glowing bright as day. There were more important things to be focusing on. River was safe. It was a temporary solution, but there was a weeping angel out there killing people. They had no idea how to deal with it, though. River might be able to come up with a plan they hadn't thought of. But what Gabriel was talking about was impossible.

"What if it doesn't work?" the Doctor asked, "I can't take that chance."

Gabriel shook his head, "Nope. Works every time."

John raised his hand half way to get their attention and stepped over to the time lord. "If it works like it's described in the books, it does work every time. Angels pull recreated people out of the ground all the time. It worked with Dean and Sam, even...if it helps," he said.

The Doctor looked from John to Sam. "You died and were pulled up out of the ground?" the Doctor asked Sam.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. It was just after I went to Hell the first time."

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "That's just not possible," he said to himself.

He quickly scanned Sam Winchester again with the Tardis computer. There was just no way in any universe to just beat death like that. You couldn't just create something from nothing. That went against every law of physics, even the ones that still applied to the Doctor. He enhanced the scan and saw that Sam's skin was only four years old. That wasn't possible. This was all completely impossible. But yet it seemed to be the case. They were already chasing a statue that could send people back in time and absorb their potential energy; what was one more impossible thing? And they could really use River's help.

"Do it," the Doctor said, slowly walking away from the impossible scan, "But if it doesn't work, put her right back in the Tardis."

Gabriel grinned widely and snapped his fingers. River's energy signature from her save space disappeared, and the Doctor felt his hearts race. What had he done?

Sam, John, and Gabriel rushed outside the Tardis with the Doctor and Sherlock following closely. Quickly, Gabriel stuck his hand in the ground and pulled up a pale, dirt covered arm. Sam helped Gabriel pull her out, rushing to wipe the dirt away from her face. The Doctor ran forward as River gasped for breath.

"Fascinating. How did you do this?" the Doctor asked Gabriel quickly as he felt River's pulse and shined a pen light in her eyes.

"If it helps, you can think of it as my ability to manipulate atoms to create a new body from the molecular structure of dirt based on the energy imprint from the soul," Gabriel said.

The Doctor continued to examine River as he asked, "But is that how you do it?"

Gabriel smiled impishly, "No, but it might help to think of it like that."

River coughed and said, "Doctor?"

The Doctor felt horribly conflicted. River was back, she was right there, but she came back in the most unnatural way that defied all reason, logic, and universal truth there was. She sat up and wiped dirt away from her face.

She fixed the Doctor with a hard stare and said, "Don't look at me like that. How many times have you died and come back?"

"That's not the same thing," the Doctor argued.

"You're just upset, because you don't know how he did it. I'm just grateful he did it. Being dead is awfully boring," she said, standing up and brushing herself off a bit.

"Thank you," River said to Gabriel, "Now, why are we all still outside, and why am I wearing a spacesuit?"

"It's what you died in," Sam supplied, helpfully.

"Well," River said, "It's covered in dirt. I'm changing. Are my clothes still in the Tardis?" The Doctor had no time to reply before River was already in the Tardis and heading to her room. The method was still uncomfortable, but it was good to have River back.

"And that's Professor River Song," the Doctor said to his companions who were still staring after the resurrected woman.

About an hour later, River, now comfortable in a beige tank top, black leggings, and knee high boots, was completely caught up on the weeping angel situation they were facing in London.

"So, what's the plan?" River asked, "How are we going to stop it? We can't exactly keep creating paradoxes wherever we go to keep angels at bay."

The Doctor answered, "We don't have one yet. Working on it, River."

"Don't get short with me, Doctor," River said, a teasing smile on her lips, "It's not my fault I've been dead and not able to help you think of brilliant plans all the time."

The Doctor turned to her and tried to keep his distance when he said, "Actually, River, it is your fault."

Before she could reply, much to the Doctor's relief, Dean and Cas walked into the Tardis holding a box.

"Who's this?" Dean asked.

River hopped down towards the door and smiled at Dean, "I'm River Song, and, my goodness, you are just delicious, aren't you?"

The Doctor sighed. If River weren't the one person he trusted in all the universe, he'd worry about her flirty behavior. Dean didn't seem to know how to react to her. Cas, however, took the box from Dean, walked forcibly between River and Dean, and gave the box to Sherlock.

"You need to see this," Cas said. Sherlock took the box and opened it as the Doctor and the rest of them edged closer.

John saw the face on the tv screen within, and said, "No. Sorry. No. That's not happening."

"John," Sherlock said.

"I can't lose you again, Sherlock," John shouted. He walked straight out of the Tardis, angrily.

"Who is that?" the Doctor asked, looking at the box.

Sherlock, staring after John, quietly answered, "Jim Moriarty."


	9. A Scandal in Baker Street

Sherlock ran out after John. Sure, Moriarty's reemergence was unexpected and scared him a little, but John's outburst was completely unwarranted.

"John," Sherlock said.

"I am not working a case involving that man," John said quickly, "I am not going through that again."

"It's not going to be like last time," Sherlock assured him.

"You don't know that," John said, shaking his head, "You don't know that and I don't know that. Last time he was involved, you died, Sherlock."

"But I didn't."

"But you did, Sherlock. You were dead to me for two years..." John's voice cracked.

Before Sherlock knew what was happening, John hugged him. This hug felt different than others. No one was dying, it wasn't as happy as at John and Mary's wedding. This hug felt heavy and painful emotionally...for John. Obviously.

Sherlock didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he hugged John back.

When John kept hugging him, Sherlock found that he rather liked the warmth his friend provided. "I'm not going anywhere," he reassured John, "But we should go to your house and warn Mary."

John released Sherlock instantly and stared at him.

"Why my house?" John asked.

"Well, you're still in your pajamas for one thing, but Moriarty's back," Sherlock said, "He tends to attack what I care about, and that's you." John looked at Sherlock for a second but nodded and pulled out his phone.

Sam wandered over presumably to see what was going on as John called Mary.

"We need to go to John's flat," Sherlock said, "If Moriarty stays true to form, he'll probably show himself there."

Sam nodded, "I'll tell the others."

Moments later, they arrived in John's living room. Quite literally in his living room. Mary stared at the phone box in confusion as Sherlock, John, Dean, Castiel, Sam, Gabriel, the Doctor, and River Song all filed out.

"How on earth did you all fit in there? Is that like a clown car or something?" Mary asked. The Doctor held the door open for her to see the spacious interior.

Mary grinned at the Tardis. "It is like a clown car. Nice," she said.

The Doctor sighed and shook his head at which response River patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

John watched the wonder on Mary's face with such a look of love, Sherlock felt like disappearing right then and there. He was in the way. His friend was married with a child on the way. It would always be Mary before Sherlock. Instead of feeling jealous about something he'd known for a long time, Sherlock resolved his last vow and knew he had to protect Mary no matter what. He cared about Mary, but he had to protect her for John's sake.

"I think we should take Mary with us," Sherlock said.

"What?" John said, "No. We're trying to hunt this thing. It's dangerous."

"I can handle myself, John, thank you," Mary said quickly.

"Mary, I know you are a more than capable person, but you're pregnant. There are limits," John said quietly.

Mary conceded, "Well, at least tell me what's going on. Like where have you been, and why are you in your pajamas?"

"That would be my fault," Sherlock sighed, "I took him on the case last night. I didn't think it would involve the supernatural."

"Oh, I love 'Supernatural!' Brilliant series," Mary said.

"That word was an actual word before it was a book series, you know," Sherlock said quickly.

Sam said exasperatedly, "Thank you! I keep trying to tell people that."

Mary looked at Sam and back at John. "Wait, is that-?" she asked. John nodded, grinning.

Dean sighed, "I'll be in that Tardis. I'm not doing this again."

"Did I miss something?" River asked the Doctor. Sam followed Dean inside. Sherlock noticed John looking at him and was contemplating escaping to the Tardis himself.

Mary went up to Cas and said, "There's just one thing I don't understand."

"Just one?" John asked.

"How did you get Sam out of the cage? You needed the horsemen's rings to get in, and how did you get out if the two most powerful archangels couldn't?" Mary asked.

Gabriel scoffed, "Most powerful. That's debatable."

Castiel looked at Mary and asked, "You want to know how I saved Sam?"

Mary nodded.

He said, "I did it very carefully." Quickly, Cas walked into the Tardis. Mary started to follow after him, but John stopped her.

"He may not want to talk about it," John said, "It isn't just a book series to them."

Mary nodded, understanding.

Sherlock said, "You should get dressed, John. I'll talk to Mary about the angel problem."

John left to get changed.

Sherlock was just able to say, "Moriarty's back," when Dean burst out of the Tardis.

"We've got it!" Dean said.

"Got what?" Gabriel asked.

"A plan," Dean said grinning.

"Really?" the Doctor said, intrigued.

"Purgatory," Dean said, "We can send the angel to Purgatory. That's where all the leviathans went, and we didn't know what to do with them either. If they can't get out, the angel won't be able to either, and I'm sure the other monsters will keep it busy."

"How are we supposed to trap it there?" Sherlock asked.

"Purgatory is a physical place, and we do have a spaceship," Sam said.

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no. I am not having a weeping angel in the Tardis," he said, "It could destroy the universe with that much time at its fingertips. Not happening."

"Wait, do you have my vortex manipulator?" River asked.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Yes," he said, "Yes!"

John came out in a sweater and jeans. "What are we excited about?" he asked.

"We have a plan!" the Doctor shouted, running into the Tardis.

"How's that now?" Sherlock asked.

River explained, "We can program the vortex manipulator with the coordinates for Purgatory. When we find the angel, we can touch it and send it there. It's just a matter of setting the coordinates and finding a volunteer."

"Volunteer?" John asked.

"Whoever sends the angel there will be sent to Purgatory as well. They can easily get back with the vortex manipulator, but it would still be a rough trip," River explained.

"I'll go," Sam said quickly. Sherlock supposed it made sense that Sam would go considering the Winchester seemed to be pretty physically tough, and Purgatory would probably involve a lot of combat.

The Doctor came out holding the small, wristband shaped trinket. "Who's going?" he asked.

"I am," Dean said, taking the black tool, "You already got stuck there once, Sam, and I know the lay of the place better."

If Sam objected, he kept his opinions to himself.

Sherlock was tempted to volunteer just to be out of the way, but he still had Moriarty to contend with.

"So, how are we going to find the angel?" Sherlock asked. Maybe he could helped with that.

River said, "We'll need bait. Something Moriarty or the angel want."

"Well, what would work for that?" Sam asked.

John said quietly, "Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at John and saw the fear in his friend's eyes and much more concern than he was used to getting.

But he was right.

Sherlock had to be the bait.


	10. Blood Brother

"You can't go back to Purgatory, Dean," Cas said.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed in their motel room shaking his head. "Somebody's gotta do it, Cas," he said.

Cas pressed, "Let someone else do it."

"Nobody knows that place like we do," Dean said, "And somebody's gotta warn Benny about a weeping angel being dumped on his side of the court."

Cas started pacing across the wooden floor. "I don't like this plan," he said, "I could go."

"No," Dean said flatly.

Dean rested back on his bed and shut his eyes. Cas was never going to Purgatory again. Not if Dean had anything to say about it.

"Why not? I could find Benny, and I was there just as long as you were. Longer, actually," Cas protested.

"No," Dean repeated.

Cas said, "At least let me go with you."

Dean sat up and felt his eyes slide to black out of defense. He made sure not to look at Cas' grace. No need to go blind.

"I said 'no,' Cas," Dean snapped.

Cas fixed him with his piercing blue gaze. "What's going on?" he asked.

Dean hesitated as he got his eyes back to normal. He didn't want Cas in Purgatory, because he was afraid of losing him. If he lost the angel again, he didn't know what he'd do.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was facing the opposite bed. "Cas, can we talk?" he asked.

Cas replied, "We are talking, Dean."

"No, I mean...can we talk about what you said earlier?" Dean clarified.

Cas lowered his eyes to the ground. He sat down on the other bed and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I should never have just blurted that out. We have more important things going on than whatever feelings I have. I really shouldn't have said anything-"

Dean cut him off by leaning forward quickly and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. It felt so good to hear Cas express his feelings; hearing him apologize for it just wasn't allowed. And Cas' lips felt incredible, so the silence and the kiss were quite the twofer. Meg was right, he did feel a bit cleaner. He wondered what the kiss would've felt like if he weren't a demon. For the first time since Dean woke up with Crowley standing over him and the First Blade in his hand, Dean started to consider letting Sam turn him human.

When Dean pulled away, Cas stared at him in total shock. Dean felt his pulse racing. Was that okay? Should he have asked first?

"Dean, I...umm...I'm confused," Cas said.

"I should've told you sooner," Dean said, "But the people I love always end up dead or worse. I couldn't take that chance. Not with you."

"I don't know what to say," Cas said.

"Say you'll drop it with the Purgatory thing," Dean said.

"Dean."

"I mean it. Drop it. I can't handle the thought of you back in there."

"How do you think I feel?" Cas snapped.

"You didn't have to leave me in there," Dean said flatly, "I had nightmares for months of losing you at the portal. I cannot go through that again."

Cas said quietly, "I'm sorry, Dean."

"It's okay. Just stay here, okay? Please?" Dean said.

Cas sighed, "Okay. But you'd better come back."

"I will," Dean promised.

He laid back on the bed and shut his eyes. Dean didn't need sleep in his demonic state, but if he tried hard enough, he could imagine he felt tired.

"What if it doesn't work? What if the angel sends you back in time instead?" Cas asked.

Dean sighed and sat back up. Clearly their conversation wasn't over. "I can teleport now, Cas. You don't need to worry about it," he said.

Cas shook his head, "Demons can't time travel, Dean. I could probably retrieve you, though."

"And use up the rest of your grace? No, forget it."

"Dean-"

"No. You saw what rescuing Sherlock did to Gabriel. You'd burn out your grace, and you'd die. Simple as that."

"So, what are we supposed to do if you get sent back?" Cas asked.

Dean said, "Gabriel could pick me up. He clearly wasn't affected by the fall. And if he can't, the Doctor kind of has a time machine. It'll be fine, Cas." Dean laid back in bed and shifted the pillow under his head for some extra comfort.

Cas tilted his head at Dean. "Do you actually require sleep?" he asked.

Dean sighed, "No. And it's annoying as hell. I like sleep, but I'm never tired. I like food, but I'm never hungry. It's very irritating."

"It would seem that being human is something difficult for you to let go of," Cas said.

"We're not talking about curing me again, Cas," Dean warned. Though it would be nice to experience kissing Cas as a human, being a demon still gave him a serious edge, one that he wasn't quite willing to let go of or discuss.

Cas shrugged. "I wasn't talking about that. I just find it interesting," he said, "I can't stand sleeping. It feels so unnatural, but I need it. And food...I liked food as a human, I hated food as a full fledged angel, but now, it all just tastes like its molecular structure even if I wanted it to have taste. It's interesting that your demonic state hasn't changed how you feel about human things."

Dean rolled over to face Cas. "You need to sleep?" he asked.

Cas nodded, "An angel's grace makes sleep unnecessary. My grace, lacking as it is, can't sustain me."

Dean sighed and knew he had to ask the important question. He just didn't know what answer he wanted.

"Cas," Dean said, looking at the fallen angel, "Are we really going to do this?"

"Do what?" Cas asked.

Dean sat up and took in Cas' confused expression. He really didn't want to say the words.

"Are we actually gonna be in a relationship?" Dean asked.

Cas smiled at Dean, making Dean mirror the expression almost involuntarily.

"I see no reason why not," Cas said.

"Well, dating me is dangerous for one thing," Dean said, "For another, I'm awful to be around. I know that. And there's the fact that we'd have to tell Sam."

Cas grinned and said, "I still see no reason why not."

"So, we're going to do this? Even though, with our lifestyle, we'll probably end up dead because of it?" Dean asked.

Cas said, "Yes."

Dean smiled and laid back. They were being stupid. Attachments were always a bad thing to have in their lives, but Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't nonsensically happy about all of this.

"Come here," Dean said, beckoning Cas over to his bed.

Slowly, Cas curled up next to Dean. Dean wrapped his arm around Cas and pulled him closer.

"Maybe this will help sleeping not suck so bad," Dean said.

Cas rested his head on Dean's chest and nodded.

Dean couldn't believe he was cuddling with Castiel.

"So, are you going to tell Sam about us, or do I have to do it?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged, "I don't think Sam will mind, so I don't see why it'll be a big deal to tell him." Dean rolled over to be face to face with Cas, but he made sure his arm stayed under his new boyfriend.

"You don't think Sam will mind?" Dean asked, "He may not have a problem with it, but he will freak."

"I think Sam, given how he's been around Gabriel lately, will understand," Cas said.

"Sam and Gabriel? Really?" Dean asked.

He could see it, and Sam was spending much more time with Gabriel and the Doctor than he was with Dean and Cas, but he also chalked that up to Sam being uncomfortable with Dean being a demon.

"Yes. I think there may be something between them. I know for sure that Gabriel is far too attached to Sam," Cas said.

"What?" Dean asked.

Cas said quietly, "I know you don't quite remember it, but when Gabriel killed you all those times, he was trying to teach Sam a lesson. He was trying to impress the point that Sam can't always save you. While I strongly disapprove of his methods, Gabriel was far too invested in Sam's ability to get by without you, and you hadn't even broken the first seal yet. Like I said, he's too attached."

Dean tried to process this without having the urge to kill Gabriel. Again. That bastard.

"I thought he did that to make sure I went to hell and broke the seal without Sam interfering so the apocalypse could get on its way, and he could go back to his family," Dean said.

Cas nodded, "That may very well be, but have you seen how Gabriel looks at your brother?"

Dean sighed in mock frustration. He really tried not to notice that sort of thing.

"So, you're saying Sam will probably be okay with us dating," Dean said.

Cas nodded and released a small yawn.

"You should get some sleep," Dean said. He wished he could get some damn sleep. Sometimes being a demon really sucked.

Cas rolled over in Dean's arms and said a quiet, "Goodnight, Dean."

"Night, Cas," Dean replied.

He shut his eyes and held Cas closer to him. He was spooning with a fallen angel. Dean tried not to feel uncomfortable about that. It was Cas, though, and it felt good to have him in his arms.

Maybe, even if he couldn't sleep, holding Cas and watching over him would make the night feel less like demonic insomnia and more like home.


	11. The Doctor's Wife

At 6 o'clock, the Tardis materialized in Dean's motel room. Why they couldn't just stay in the Tardis like normal people, the Doctor didn't understand.

Sam stopped short as they got out of the Tardis. The Doctor squeezed his way around him and laughed. Well, that was certainly unexpected.

River got out and said, "I told you we should've called first."

Sam asked loudly, "Well, how long has this been going on?"

Cas jumped, startled from his sleep.

Dean just sighed, "Good morning to you, too, Sam."

An awkward silence filled the space that just got on every fiber of the Doctor's nerves. He clapped his hands together and said, "So, Purgatory today. Let's go, up and at em, allonsy, rise and shine. Whatever you prefer."

Dean slipped his arms out from around Cas and got up, pulling his friend up with him. They walked past Sam into the Tardis.

Sam said, "We are talking about this later, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes as the Doctor said, "As long as talking about it is on your time. Now, Purgatory. How do we get there?"

River whacked the Doctor's arm. "Be nice," she said, "This is obviously new. Let them work it out."

"Spooning with Cas?" Sam asked, "I can't say I'm surprised, and it's about damn time, but when did this even happen?"

"Last night," Cas answered.

"So, what? Are you guys a thing now?" Sam asked, still clearly perplexed.

The Doctor paced over to the Tardis console as he waited for them to wrap up their melodrama.

Dean grabbed Cas' hand and said, "Yeah, we're together."

River nudged the Doctor. "Tell me that's not adorable," she said.

"Ah, yes, young love," the Doctor deadpanned, "Is that what you're looking for?"

"Do you remember when I kissed you the first time?" River asked, "How shocked you were when I did it? Have a little empathy, Doctor."

The Doctor sighed. He didn't know these people quite well enough to care, but Cas and Dean were sort of cute together he supposed.

Sam seemed to recover from his shock, but the dumbstruck look returned when he saw Sherlock and John cuddled up together on an air mattress under the stairs leading to the console.

"Is everybody hooking up around here?" Sam asked, "Did I miss something?"

John stretched in his sleep. Sherlock shifted to compensate for the motion.

The Doctor motioned over to them and said to River, "Now, that's adorable."

River said quietly, "You're adorable. They just fell asleep like that." The Doctor tried his hardest not to blush and give her the satisfaction.

Gabriel popped in from somewhere and said, "Someone said something about hooking up? What's going on?" He took in his surroundings and bounced his eyebrows at Sam, "It's feeling like Noah's ark in here. How bout it, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out an old piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to the Doctor.

"This is the spell Cas used to access Purgatory. It's really specific, though. It has to be the right day and the right conditions," Sam said.

The Doctor nodded and looked at the drawing. The spell, if analyzed, could probably give them coordinates to some sort of portal, but it would take a while. The sigil, however, was all the direction he needed. It wasn't written in Gallifreyan, but it was very close. The Tardis could translate it easily.

"Alright, next stop, Purgatory," the Doctor said. He scanned the sigil, input the coordinates, and whisked them off to the inhuman afterlife.

Before walking out the door, the Doctor said, "Everyone stay inside the Tardis. I'll just set the location and be right back."

"We'll be right back," River corrected, beating the Doctor to the door. It was no use arguing with her.

"Watch your backs out there," Dean said, "They can sense when something's out of place. Monsters will be gunning for you the second you open those doors."

River pulled her gun from her thigh holster and held it in front of her with a wink at the Doctor as they walked out into what seemed like a colorless forest. John and Sherlock had just woken up and everyone else had been here before, so there didn't seem to be much to worry about.

"So, what are we going to do about us?" River asked. There wasn't anything to worry about with the exception of that.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about, River," the Doctor tried.

"Liar," she said, looking past the Doctor into the surrounding woods, "We've never been on the same timeline before. Doesn't it scare you?"

It did a bit. Given their mutual access to time travel, though, they could easily slip up their time streams again.

The Doctor ignored her and tried setting the vortex manipulator. Something was wrong. It wouldn't work.

"It won't pick up the coordinates," the Doctor said.

River sighed, "You're too close to the Tardis. She's interfering with the manipulator's sensors. Come on."

Why was that woman always right? The Doctor followed her further into the quiet woods.

"Are you still upset with me for not being dead?" River asked.

"No," the Doctor said, "I was never mad about you being alive, I just don't like the idea of magic. Everything has to have an explanation. You know that."

River sighed, "Oh, good. I was starting to worry."

River seemed tense, and the Doctor started to get the sense that he was the cause. They continued into the trees. A branch snapping caught River's attention, the Doctor's wife training her gun towards the sound. The Doctor set the coordinates now that they were far enough away from the Tardis' energy field.

"What are your plans for after this?" the Doctor asked tentatively.

As they headed back towards the Tardis, River asked, "What do you mean?"

The Doctor hopped awkwardly over a log rather than tripping over it. "I mean," he said, regaining his footing and ignoring the look she gave him, "After we've sorted this angel nonsense, are you going to go off and have your own adventures, or are you going to stay in the Tardis with me?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'll stay with you," she said, still scanning the trees.

"Well, last time I offered you sort of declined the offer since we're both psychopaths and it's too much for one Tardis or something like that," the Doctor said.

River held up her hand for him to be quiet as she listened for other noise.

She turned around and looked at him sternly. "I only said no, because I wouldn't be your companion for as long as you would need. No more regenerations make for a very difficult time travelling with you," River explained.

"And you died," he said, "We all see how permanent that was."

She sighed, "I knew you were still upset about it." She walked faster towards the Tardis, blonde curls bouncing with frustration.

The Doctor ran to catch up to her and said, "That's not what I meant."

"What I meant," River said, "Is that I have my regenerations back, so I have no qualms about following you to the ends of the universe."

"You what?" the Doctor asked, perplexed.

River stared at the Doctor like he was the biggest idiot she'd ever met. He looked at her and noticed for the first time that she did seem to stand out from the standard flow of time he usually saw everywhere else.

Maybe it was the fact that several of their new companions also were unaffected by time, or maybe he was the biggest idiot River had ever met.

"You have all of your regenerations," the Doctor said, "How is that possible?"

"I figure it's got something to do with the resurrection. Brand new time lord, brand new regeneration cycle," River said.

Something rushed at them from the treeline, and River spun quickly, shooting it in the head.

"Run," she said. Two fanged, humanoid creatures blocked them from safety. One of them hissed and managed to dodge a bullet from River Song. More creatures emerged from the woods, surrounding the time lords. River and the Doctor went back to back. The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, but it was all but useless against these things.

"How many bullets do you have?" the Doctor asked.

River sighed, "Not enough."

As the creatures started encroaching, one of their heads were lobbed off. Sam and Dean, armed with blades, took care of the assailants. Before any other creatures could attack, they raced back to the Tardis, the Doctor snapping the doors open so they could run inside. Quickly, he did a headcount and saw that all of his companions had, for once, listened to him, and were all present and accountable. "You're welcome," Dean said, wiping the blood from his machete on his sleeve. All but Sam and Dean had stayed put, but the Doctor was rather glad they didn't listen. "Thanks," the Doctor said absently. He couldn't believe River could outlive him now.

River said, "Don't worry, sweetie. You'll never be rid of me." The Doctor grinned at her, making her smile in return.

The Doctor jumped quickly to the Tardis console, tossed the vortex manipulator to Dean, and said, "Let's go trap a weeping angel, shall we?"


	12. The Sign of Four

Sherlock paced around the warehouse, watching John out of the corner of his eye. He'd really rather John wasn't there. It was much too dangerous. His stomach twisted much the way it had when Moriarty had strapped a bomb to John at the pool or when he knew the only way he could save John was to sacrifice himself on the hospital roof. He didn't like this one bit, being responsible for the potential pain of his friend.

"I still don't think you should be here, John," Sherlock said, "It's not too late to go back to the Tardis."

John snapped, "Stop it, Sherlock. I wasn't about to let you be bait for a killer statue by yourself. Stop trying to get me to leave. It's not happening."

Sherlock sighed. Something wasn't right. Something awful was about to happen. They'd chosen the warehouse to keep the angel away from other people. It was a private location away from the city where a weeping angel could really wreak havoc. The Doctor had the Tardis just outside the building, completely cloaked and scanning for any unusual activity. Dean Winchester stood behind the building, waiting for the signal. They'd sent a transmission attempting to catch Moriarty's attention, but John had been smarter. He announced on his blog that Sherlock was officially moving his business to the warehouse and that he wouldn't be seeing clients for the next week or two. Judging by the large amount of internet traffic the post had gotten, Moriarty knew exactly where they were. So, they waited.

John didn't need to be there, though. Every part of the plan made sense except for this.

"And what happens if the angel attacks you?" Sherlock asked.

"Someone will have to get me from the past," John said.

"The angel moves faster than we can see, John," Sherlock said, "What if it tries to physically harm you rather than send you back in time?"

"I'll probably get hurt," John said nonchalantly.

"Then, why are you here?" Sherlock asked.

John cleared his throat and straightened the hem of his shirt. "This is dangerous, Sherlock," he said, "Two pairs of eyes is better for this thing, you could use the help, and if you get hurt, I can help since I'm a doctor."

Sherlock continued to pace, trying to get the sinking feeling out of his head. "I don't like this," he said.

"You'll deal with it," John said, watching Sherlock wear a rut in the floor. There had to be a way to get through to John. There had to be some way to make him see he was being horribly stupid.

"What if you die, John?" Sherlock asked.

John said lightly, "I don't think I will."

"But what if you do?"

"Then, I'll be dead."

"What about Mary?" Sherlock tried.

John sighed, "Sherlock, I'm not leaving. If I die, Mary is a strong woman. She'll be sad, but she'll be fine."

"You'd make her a single mother?" Sherlock asked.

John snapped, "I'm not going to die, Sherlock, and Mary will be a great mother with or without me, so just stop it."

Sherlock stopped pacing. "What about me, then?" he asked.

"What about you, Sherlock?" John said, looking towards the warehouse door.

"If you die, what do you think that would do to me?" Sherlock asked.

"You'd be fine," John said.

"No," Sherlock said, "No, I wouldn't. You have no idea what I'd go through if you died on my watch while I could've protected you."

"You're being dramatic."

"And you're being nonsensical."

"How is trying to help my best friend so he doesn't die considered nonsensical?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed, "I'm not going to die."

John walked up to Sherlock and fixed him with a stern stare. "You don't know that," he said, "And I can't lose you again. I just can't, Sherlock."

Sherlock said quickly, "And you think it'd be easy for me to lose you again?"

"You've never lost me," John said sharply.

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulders and looked him in the eye. He said, "Moriarty kidnapped you and strapped a bomb to you. You were taken and almost burned alive in a bonfire. You had a sniper on you when I was on the roof of St. Bart's. I had to fake my death and lose you for two years to keep you safe. I've lost you plenty of times, and I'd rather not add to the list. Please, I'm begging you, go back to the Tardis."

John swallowed nervously but protested, "I can help."

"You can help me by not being in danger for once," Sherlock said.

"You won't lose me. I'm not leaving you," John said, stubborn to a fault. Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh and took a step away from John. This was ridiculous. He was going to get himself killed.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, "Why do you care so much about me that you'd do something so senseless?"

The door to the warehouse slammed open, and the weeping angel stood just outside.

"Sherlock," John said. Sherlock's eyes were glued to the angel.

"Do you have it?" Sherlock asked.

John said quickly, "Yes. Give the signal." Sherlock pulled the Doctor's sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and aimed it at the back door. Nothing happened. No lights flickering as was the plan. Nothing.

"Sherlock!" John shouted. Sherlock turned around and the angel was frozen only a foot away from John, looking as if it were lunging and snarling.

"I thought you had him!" Sherlock said, hurrying over, "Back away from it." Sherlock stared at the statue as John tried to move away.

"I can't," John said. Sherlock kept his eyes on the statue as he moved his gaze to the angel's hand. It had a hold of John's wrist.

"Don't worry, John. We'll figure this out," Sherlock said. Fear clutched at his breathing. Why didn't John just go in the Tardis like he'd asked? Sherlock tried the sonic again, getting closer to the door, but still nothing happened. He never took his eyes from the statue.

"I love you, Sherlock," John said quietly, "That's why I wanted to stay. I love you. I couldn't just leave."

"Yes, I know I'm your best friend, but that doesn't mean you should've risked your life to-"

"No, that's not-I'm in love with you, Sherlock," John said.

It took every ounce of Sherlock's will power to keep staring at the statue and not look at John when he said those words. He never expected to be best friends with anyone, but he definitely never expected anyone would ever have feelings for him. He controlled his shock. Danger first, feelings later.

"You have impeccable timing, John," Sherlock said, "Are you looking at the statue?"

"Yes," John said.

"Okay, close your eyes," Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock said, "I need to get Dean. You need to be able to stare at it as long as it takes. Trust me, I won't let anything happen to you. Close your eyes."

"Okay," John said, "I closed them."

"I'm going to get Dean. Open your eyes when I say," Sherlock said. Everything was going to be fine. Dean would take the angel to Purgatory. They'd get out of this. John would be fine.

"Okay," John said.

"For the record," Sherlock said, feeling his eyes start to really strain, "I love you, too, John." He'd be able to say it again later. This would work.

"Sherlock-" John started.

"Open your eyes," Sherlock said quickly, "Are you staring at it?"

"Yes," John said. Sherlock blinked and looked at John.

"Don't blink," Sherlock said, "Please."

Without a moment's hesitation, he ran to the back door and pushed it open.

"Dean," Sherlock shouted.

Dean quickly ran in the warehouse and asked, "What happened to the signal?"

"It didn't work. I tried, but the lights didn't flicker like they should've," Sherlock said.

Dean ran up to John and the angel. "How the hell did this happen?" he asked, gesturing to John's wrist.

John said, "I blinked."

"Okay," Dean said, "Here's what we're gonna do. When I take this thing to Purgatory, you pull your wrist as hard as you can. Hopefully, it'll work." John looked at Dean and nodded. It wasn't like they had a better plan.

Suddenly, the statue was grabbing for Sherlock's throat, frozen centimeters from contact with Sherlock's skin. John and Dean reached for the weeping angel at the same time. In a quick zap, Dean teleported the angel with the vortex manipulator.

"John!" Sherlock shouted. But Sherlock was alone. John was gone.


	13. The Man Who Knew Too Much

Dean and John landed in a clearing next to the angel statue. They barely had time to register their surroundings before two black bullets of goo smacked into the ground.

"Shit," Dean said, "Run." John looked at the people forming from the goo and ran towards the tree line. Dean followed quickly. One of the leviathans, a female with blonde hair, started heading for them in the denser forest. Dean pulled his machete from the sheath on his hip.

"Leave them," the male leviathan said, "This is more important." Dean looked the closer leviathan in the eye before it turned around to look at the weeping angel.

"I haven't seen you in oh so long," the male said to the statue. He looked at his partner.

She asked, "What is it?"

"Do you not recognize a weeping angel?" he asked, "The only creature in existence older than ourselves, and you don't know it?"

The male leviathan flickered like a ghost as the angel touched his shoulder. The leviathan's mouth grew to cover his face in a surprised cry.

Regaining his human features, he looked at the angel sadly. "You should not have done that. Such a waste," he said.

At his words, the angel statue's wings began to crumble. It cracked in half and collapsed to the ground in a pile of rubble. John looked over at Dean, confused. Dean shrugged. He didn't know what the hell just happened.

"We need to move," he said, "This way."

When Dean and John got further into the woods, Dean put a hand on John's shoulder and pressed the button on the vortex manipulator to take them home, but they didn't go anywhere.

"Shit," Dean said.

John asked, "Is it broken?"

"Hell if I know," Dean said, "Looks like we're doing this the old fashioned way."

Dean handed John his machete and pulled a bowie knife from a holster on his calf. At least he'd had the good sense to come prepared, though he doubted Cas would've let him come so easily without multiple weapons. He even had his pearl sided 1911 in his thigh holster for good measure.

They started off through the woods.

"Weeping angels devour potential energy, right?" John asked. Dean glanced at him and held a finger to his lips to signal John's silence. If they were going to find the oasis Cas had been at, they needed to keep quiet or fight their way there.

"If leviathans don't die like it said in the books, then sending a leviathan back would just make an alternate timeline," John said, "An infinite amount of potential energy would've been made."

Dean sighed frustrated, "And that may very well be what happened. But we need to get out of here alive, so please, for your own sake, shut up."

A werewolf jumped at John from behind a tree. Dean quickly pulled the monster over John and onto her back. Without a moment's hesitation, Dean shoved his bowie knife into her heart. Forcing the silver blade through skin, muscle, bone, and blood felt so good. He twisted the knife just to feel the extra crunch of flesh as he slowly dragged the knife out. He quickly flicked his eyes black and back to green to be sure he didn't accidentally go full demon before looking at John again.

Wiping the blood from the blade on his pants, he said, "Come on. Let's keep moving." John looked at him in shock and a healthy amount of terror. Dean saw John was physically okay and kept going without another word.

They only had to fend off one more attack, rawhead this time, before they got to the clearing. Dean could still see Cas crouched by the water's edge.

A knife pressed against Dean's throat. Dean froze.

His assailant said quietly, "Oh, brother, look at you."

Dean grinned. He would know that southern drawl anywhere. "Hey, Benny," he said.

Benny took his knife from Dean's neck and pulled him in for a hug. Benny looked just like he did the last time they saw each other.

"This is Benny?" John asked.

Benny released Dean and glanced at John, unimpressed. "Who's your friend?" he asked Dean.

Dean sighed, "This is John. He's helping on a case. He's a fan. It's complicated."

"Dammit, I'm in the books now, too?" Benny groaned.

Dean patted his friend on the back. "Join the club," he said, "Anyway, we're headed for the portal. You coming with this time?"

Benny sighed, "I don't know. I'm no good topside, Dean."

"And you're hiding in the safest spot in Purgatory because what, you're doing so well here?" Dean countered.

"I'll go with to the portal," Benny said, "but past that, I dunno."

Dean nodded. He'd take what he could get. At least Cas wasn't here.

"So, what brought you back to these parts?" Benny asked as they headed back into the woods.

Dean pushed a branch away from his face. "Had to kill a thing. Couldn't kill it. Sent it here. It wasn't the best plan, but it's all we had," he said.

Benny moved a few paces ahead and asked, "Mind if I ask what the hell happened to you?"

Dean sighed. Of course Benny would notice the demon thing. He looked over at John for a second.

"Not much. Just hitched a ride down here with the help of a time-traveling alien," Dean said.

Benny grinned, "It's always something crazy with you, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"That's all I'm saying, brother," Dean said, fixing Benny with a sharp look.

Benny nodded, looking at John, and continued towards the portal.

After that, they continued on in silence aside from Benny's soft whistling of the 1812 Overture. An hour later, they reached the base of hill the portal sat on top of.

"There she is," Benny said.

John's mouth fell open slightly.

Dean turned to Benny and asked, "Well, you coming?"

Benny sighed, "What am I gonna do up there? I couldn't even hold down a small job without a hunter getting after me."

"You could stay with us if you want," Dean said, "You'd make a pretty good hunter."

"Yeah, I'm sure that'd go over great with Sam," Benny scoffed.

"Don't worry about Sam. You could do whatever you want, Benny. I'm just saying that I've got your back. Come with us," Dean pressed.

Benny sighed, "Fine. I'll go with you, but how are you gonna get me back there when you can't get through the portal yourself?"

"What?" John asked.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

Benny chuckled glumly, "Well, brother, you're not exactly your old self. Kinda need to be human to use the portal."

Dammit. Dean shot Benny an irritated glare.

"You're not human?" John asked, shocked.

Dean faced John.

"What are you, then?" John asked, taking a few steps back.

Dean had sort of figured it was going to come out eventually, but this was really not the way he wanted this to go down. He flicked his eyes black. At John's horrified expression, Dean turned his dark stare to Benny.

"Did you have to tell him?" Dean asked.

Benny shrugged. "He needed to know if he's gonna get us out of here," he said.

"How did this happen? Are you even Dean?" John asked.

"It's a long story, but I'm definitely still me," Dean said, turning his eyes back to being human.

Staring at Dean warily, John asked, "How can I even trust you?"

Dean thought of a million excuses. He saved John's life, he had been nothing but helpful this entire case, he volunteered for the trip to Purgatory. All of them were lies though. They happened to be true, but they felt like lies. He saved Kevin's life, and that kid had trusted him. His guilty demon conscience knew what had happened to him.

So, Dean told John the truth. "You shouldn't," he said, "You shouldn't trust me. No one should, but bottom line, you're the only one who can get us out of here."

John looked from Dean to Benny and back. "What do I have to do?" he asked.

Dean told him the incantation and handed him his bowie knife.

"You'll have to do it twice for both me and Benny, but this is what we did to get Benny out last time," Dean said, "Also, you'll have to throw my body through the portal since I came here physically."

John nodded, gripping the knife tighter.

Dean said quickly, "Oh, and this is really gonna hurt." John ran the blade across his arm and said the latin words to bring Benny's essence into his flesh.

John inhaled sharply. "Yeah, that stings a bit," he said stiffly.

"C'mon," Dean said.

They climbed up the hill to the portal.

The wind from the glowing entrance was so intense, Dean had to shout to John. "Give me the knife," he called.

John handed it over and shouted, "Why?" Dean ripped open his shirt and placed the blade flush with his skin. He was endlessly glad Cas wasn't here to see this. Quickly, he gritted his teeth against the numb, detached almost ticklish feeling he had as he sliced his anti-possession tattoo off of his chest. No use leaving his meat suit if he couldn't get back in later. He ignored the blood pouring from his chest.

"Do the incantation," Dean shouted. For the first time since waking up as a demon, Dean left his body in a flood of black smoke. He'd never felt freer. John shouted the incantation over the new gash in his other arm, beckoning Dean to it. Dean felt compelled to obey the incantation as a strange, warm sensation traveled through his withered soul. All was soon darkness.

The next thing Dean knew, he was funneling back into his body. He opened his eyes, flicked them a couple of times to make sure they weren't black, and sat up. They were in the cemetery Dean had popped up in last time.

"That was the weirdest-" Dean started.

John asked, "What do I do about Benny?"

"I'll take care of Benny," Dean said. He grabbed his knife from John and cut his forearm, gripping John's forearm tightly. He muttered the latin incantation swapping Benny's essence from John's arm to his. Dean grimaced. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as the last time. It was really weird to admit, but Dean sort of missed real pain. Demon pain just didn't cut it. Realizing his chest was still bleeding, Dean healed it with a quick thought. He did the same to John's cuts. His mojo definitely had its perks.

"Gotta go to the bunker. You coming along for the ride?" Dean asked.

John shrugged, "Why not?" John would probably needed some serious therapy after all of this. Dean grabbed John's shoulder and whisked them off to the bunker.

John gasped as they landed outside. "I didn't think you meant this second!" he said, reeling from the demonic teleportation.

Dean hurried around to the back of the bunker near the garage. He felt his eyes turn black almost on their own as he directed a hand towards the ground. Dean had started getting used to telekinesis when he'd first really used the First Blade against Abaddon. Using that same dark thread of energy, he raised Benny's coffin through the dirt to the surface.

John, having joined Dean near the garage, asked, "You buried Benny here?"

"I had to kill him to save Sam," Dean said, "It was never meant to be permanent, so I buried him here...in case I got him out of Purgatory again. Did you not read that far in the books?"

John sighed at Dean's comment. Dean slit his arm open over Benny's body and watched the vampire come to life just like last time.

Dean turned around to look at John. "Nobody else needs to know about the demon thing, okay?" he insisted.

John looked at Dean worriedly. "Do Sam and Cas know?" he asked.

Dean laughed, "Have you seen how much Sam and I fight lately? Yeah, they know."

Benny got up out of the pine box and stretched, his back popping several times. "So, where's the case?" he asked.

"London," John said.

Benny laughed, "I hope you don't mind if I sit this one out. Wouldn't mind having some time to get my sea legs this time."

Dean let Benny inside and said, "Make yourself at home. Just don't touch anything weird. A lot of the weird stuff is cursed or worse."

Benny sighed, "Never a dull moment with you, Winchester."

He went inside and Dean asked John, "You got a phone?"

John nodded, pulling out his phone.

"Call Sam," Dean said, "Let him know we're back topside and where we're at. I'd poof us there, but it would kind of give away the demon stuff."

John nodded and called Sam.

As the Tardis materialized moments later, John said to Dean, "You know, even with everything, I trust you."

"You really shouldn't," Dean said.

John grinned and said, "Too late."

As soon as the Tardis fully landed, Cas came out first, walked over, and hugged Dean. "You've been gone for a full day," he said, holding onto Dean tightly, "I should've gone with you. I could've helped. What happened? I thought you were supposed to use the vortex manipulator to get back-"

"Cas, calm down," Dean said.

Cas released Dean and looked at him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, I'm fine. Getting out was a bit difficult, but-"

"Just so you know why I can't help," Cas said.

"What?" Dean asked.

Cas' gaze was distant, like it had been in the crypt when they found the angel tablet.

"Cas?" Dean tried. Cas blinked a few times and looked at Dean.

"I'm glad you're alright," Cas said.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, me, too. What just happened?"

Cas cocked his head to the side. "What are you talking about, Dean?" he asked.

"You just said...never mind," Dean said. Cas clearly didn't know what had just happened, so pressing the issue was pointless. He decided to keep a close eye on Cas though, because weird didn't begin to cover it when Cas acted like that.

The Doctor leaned out of the Tardis door and said, "We still need to figure out where Moriarty got a weeping angel from. Come along."

Dean, Cas, and John got back in the Tardis and headed back to London.


	14. Blink

"But how did Moriarty get a weeping angel?" the Doctor asked as he paced around the Tardis console, agitated.

"What does it matter how he got it?" Sam asked, "I mean, the thing is in Purgatory, right?"

"No, you don't understand," the Doctor said, walking over to where Sam was leaning, "A weeping angel isn't a weapon or a mindless beast. A weeping angel is an assassin. It's not for hire, it's smart, and there is no way Moriarty could have gotten it to do his bidding."

The Doctor paused and asked Sherlock, "Moriarty is human, correct?"

Sherlock nodded and said, "Yes, he's definitely human. A psychopath but human."

"Good, so like I said, there is no way he could've controlled them," the Doctor said to Sam, "So how did he do it? And where did he even find it?"

Sam asked, "Where would you find them normally?"

The Doctor remembered being in the Byzantium, talking to Angel Bob and trying to protect too many of the Papel Mainframe's clergy. "Not on Earth," he said.

There were the angels in New York, but they created so many paradoxes, he had to lose Amy and Rory. There was no way the angels could've survived that. Even if they had, how could Moriarty have convinced statues to join his fight against Sherlock?

The angels had been on Earth twice. Not just New York. Oh, no.

The Doctor looked up at River.

River looked at him, confused for a moment, before gasping, "Oh, Doctor, tell me you didn't."

"They were staring at each other! They were stone! How was I supposed to know someone would figure it out?" the Doctor said defensively.

"You should've gone back there and done something with them," River said.

The Doctor sighed, "And what would I have done with them, hmm? We didn't know what to do with the one we've been dealing with until very recently."

"We need to go to that house," River said.

"What is going on?" Sam asked, confused.

"There's a house, Wester Drumlins. There were weeping angels there. We had them stare at each other, locking them into their stone form, and left them there," the Doctor explained impatiently. He put in the coordinates to Wester Drumlins as quickly as he could.

As they landed, River headed for the door.

"Oh, no," the Doctor said, "I need you to stay with the Tardis."

"I'm not just letting you walk into a house with possibly loose weeping angels," River argued.

The Doctor sighed, "If the angels get the Tardis, we will have bigger problems."

"We should probably go to John's flat," Sherlock said, "We have the angel out of the way. Moriarty probably won't stay silent for long."

The Doctor clapped his hands together and said, "Great! You can take this lot to John's flat. Sounds lovely."

River fixed the Doctor with a stern gaze. She was always so fierce when she got cross. "You're not going in there alone," she argued.

Sam said quickly, "I'll go with him."

The Doctor grinned at River.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said, "I'll take them to John's. Call me when you're done. Be careful."

"Always am," the Doctor said.

River laughed, "Liar."

Sam followed the Doctor to the door.

"Sammy," Gabriel said, "If you get sent back, I'll sense it and come get you, okay? Don't go talking to random historical figures."

Sam smirked, and Sherlock scowled at the archangel.

The Doctor and Sam quickly walked out the door into the bright light of a cloudy London afternoon.

"If you see a statue, call it out," Sam said.

The Doctor glanced at Sam and asked, "You do know I've been doing this for a long time, correct?"

"That just means you'll be more cocky about it. If you see a statue, tell me," Sam insisted.

"Dean must be really terrible at teamwork," the Doctor said as they approached the front door.

"We can be a great team," Sam said defensively.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

Sam sighed, "He used to be better. It's complicated. Just...we have more important things to focus on."

The Doctor completely agreed. He opened the door and walked in the abandoned house.

"I'll take the upstairs," Sam said.

"No, wait," the Doctor said, "They were frozen in the basement."

"Of course they were," Sam said.

It would've been advantageous to have caused a Tardis dematerialization in a well lit area of the house, but on short notice and done by a human with little to no knowledge of time travel, the basement was perfect given the circumstances.

They went down the stairs quickly.

"How many angels were down here?" Sam asked.

"Four," the Doctor said, "There were four."

But there were only two angels standing before them, still staring each other to death for eternity. Not good. Definitely not good.

"Maybe it's still in the house," Sam suggested.

"Maybe. We'll have to send these to Purgatory before we do anything else," the Doctor said.

"How are we going to-" Sam started.

"Stare at that one," the Doctor said, pointing to the angel closest to Sam.

"Wait, what?" Sam asked.

The Doctor put a hand on an angel's shoulder and used River's vortex manipulator to pop into Purgatory. Quickly, he reset the coordinates to point of origin, and went back to the house Sally Sparrow had been so tied to.

"Guess I should've shown Dean how to set the coordinates back, hmm?" the Doctor mused.

"Doctor," Sam said, eyes clearly straining.

"Oh, sorry," the Doctor said. He grabbed the other angel and sent it to Purgatory as well.

When he popped back into the room next to Sam, he said, "It's amazing the simple things you overlook when you use something enough."

"We should check the house," Sam said.

The Doctor nodded and headed up the stairs.

"You're not so great at this whole teamwork thing either, are you?" Sam asked.

The Doctor sighed, "I tend to work alone."

"That's not what River was saying earlier," Sam said.

The Doctor didn't respond.

They looked through the first floor. Each doorway looked heavy with cobwebs, each room laid dusty and unused. The missing weeping angel was not on that floor.

As they made their way upstairs, Sam said, "I know if Dean had been more open with me, and trusted me for a change, he wouldn't be in the mess he's in now."

The Doctor looked at Sam and assumed he was talking about the darkness that kept popping up on Dean's scan. "Is that supposed to be some allegory for how I should trust people more and be more open, because if it is, that's really quite obnoxious," he said.

Sam sighed, "I'm just stating a fact that may or may not help you out with River."

The Doctor closed his eyes and tried to ignore Sam.

On the second floor, the rooms were almost all bare. Only one room had a bed, and it was the sole piece of furniture on the floor.

One of the empty rooms still had the warning the tenth incarnation of the Doctor had written for Sally to warn her of the weeping angels.

Sam looked at the wall and glanced at the Doctor skeptically.

"What?" the Doctor said, "I had to warn her, and I was stuck in the 1960s without the Tardis. What else was I supposed to do?"

Sam shrugged and continued to the next room.

The Doctor said, grinning, "You should've seen the look on the residents' faces when I came in to graffiti that wall."

"There were people here?" Sam asked, checking a room with a balcony.

"Had to stand on their sofa. They were not pleased with me, let me tell you," the Doctor said.

"Doctor, look," Sam said.

An angel statue peered between its fingers up at the room they were in.

"Don't look it in the eye, but don't blink," the Doctor said.

He quickly ran down the stairs and barely heard Sam say, "Doctor! I can't-" before he rushed out into the back garden.

The statue was gone.

Sam leaned over the balcony. "You need to give better warning," he said, "And work as a team."

The Doctor sighed frustratedly.

He heard Sam call someone on the Tardis. "Wait, slow down," he said, "What happened?"

The Doctor almost didn't want to know what had happened, though he suspected it was nothing good. Whatever it was, it would likely have to wait; they now had another weeping angel to worry about.


	15. The Empty Grave

John briefly glanced at Sherlock before opening the Tardis door. "Mary," he said, "We're back."

There was no reply.

"Mary?" John called as he stepped into his apartment.

Sherlock followed him and looked around. The coffee table was skewed from the angle it normally sat at, the recliner's lever to raise the foot stood half turned, and the magazine and book on the end table between the chairs were perfectly stack and lay perfectly parallel with the table's edge. Everything in that room was slightly off, clear signs of tidying up quickly after a scuffle.

"She's not here, John," Sherlock said.

"Of course, she's here," John argued. He headed towards the bedroom.

"John, I wouldn't go in there," Sherlock said.

"Oh my God. Sherlock!" John shouted.

Sherlock followed after him.

On John and Mary's bed sat a white marble headstone engraved with the words "I Owe You."

Sherlock pulled John's arm to lead him away from the room.

"No," John said, "What does that mean?"

Sherlock turned John away from the tombstone. "It means Moriarty has Mary," he said. Sherlock pulled John towards the Tardis.

"He can't have Mary," John said.

Sherlock said, "He does, John. He does have her. We have to go."

"He can't have Mary. He can't have her. He can't have my family. He just can't," John said.

Sherlock had the feeling that this would be an appropriate time to hug his friend, but he wasn't quite sure enough to do it.

"We're going to find her," Sherlock said to reassure John, "Don't worry. Let's go back to the Tardis, and we'll figure it out."

John didn't react but walked to the Tardis with a certain level of determination that reminded Sherlock of the intensity John's motions had after he discovered the truth, or what part of it he cared to know, about his wife. Sherlock began to worry about John. They had to find Mary. Losing her and their baby would destroy John. It didn't matter what feelings John and Sherlock had confessed to; Mary came first, and she always would.

As they stepped into the Tardis, Cas glanced at John and asked, "What's going on?"

"Moriarty has Mary," Sherlock explained, still watching John. The fact that this was Moriarty's doing probably did nothing to help John's troubled mind.

Dean's phone rang in his pocket.

"Sam," Dean answered, "You need to get back here. John's wife is missing...Apparently, Moriarty happened." He paused for a moment. "Are you shitting me right now?" he asked, agitated. Sherlock thought he saw Dean's eyes turn black for a moment, but it could have easily been the lighting.

Cas gave Dean a worried look, and Gabriel sighed, "I did not just hear that."

"Hear what?" River asked.

"There's another weeping angel on the loose," Dean said, "And Sam and the Doctor need a lift."

The Tardis materialized at Sam and the Doctor's location two seconds later.

"Where's the new angel?" River asked.

"We don't know," Sam said.

The Doctor said, "Sam blinked."

"Because you gave me no warning!" Sam protested.

"So, we have to start searching again," Sherlock said, "Or think of a better trap since I doubt Moriarty will allow us to take another weeping angel away from him."

"No, we need to get Mary back," John snapped.

"Oh, that's what happened," the Doctor said, "I was wondering. But we'll have to take care of the weeping angel first, sorry."

John started, "No, I don't think you underst-"

"If Moriarty has your wife, he's using her as leverage, so she'll stay alive. I can't say the same for anyone who runs into a weeping angel in the meantime," the Doctor said quickly.

"Actually, Doctor," Sherlock said, looking over at John, "Moriarty is a psychopath. Assuming he'd let her live to use her as leverage would be assuming that he's using a logical thought process. We have to get to Mary first."

The Doctor sighed, "She might possibly die whereas countless people in London will die if we don't stop that angel. Do you even know where Mary is?"

Sherlock said, "No, but my grave would be the first step to finding her."

"Your grave?" John asked, "Why?"

"Moriarty said he had marble angels. These angels are definitely not made of marble, and he wouldn't make a mistake like that. Also, the headstone in your bed was made of marble. Probably not a coincidence. The only marble relating to me is my gravestone," Sherlock said, "Then, the headstone said 'I Owe You.' When Moriarty was with me on the rooftop and several times before that, he said he owed me a fall. He even carved it into an apple once. My grave is the only thing that makes sense."

River looked at the Doctor for an idea of what she should do.

The Doctor sighed, "Fine. We'll go to your grave, but if it doesn't spell out exactly where Mary is, we have to go after that angel."

As the Tardis materialized in the cemetery, Sherlock said to John, "We'll find her."

John said quickly, "You're damn right we will."

The black marble headstone stood shining in the sunlight. Sherlock stepped closer to investigate. Nothing seemed particularly out of place. But he had to find Mary. Not only for John. He had made a vow to protect them. He wouldn't break that now. He was still struggling with the fact that Moriarty was alive let alone kidnapping the people he cared about.

Cas watched Sherlock circle the headstone.

"Can I help you?" Sherlock asked.

Cas tilted his head to the side and said, "You're very detail oriented for a human, but you've completely avoided looking at your own name. It's intriguing."

"Don't psychoanalyze me," Sherlock warned.

But Cas was right. He had avoided his own name. Quickly, he circled the gravestone and looked at the engraved lettering. And there is was. Inside the 'O' in 'Sherlock' had been engraved three marks, turning the 'O' into a smiley face like the one he'd spray painted on his wall.

"She's at Baker Street," Sherlock called.

John rushed over and asked, "How do you know?"

Sherlock pointed at his name when his phone rang. Quickly, he answered it, "Hello?"

"Sherlock?" Molly said, "I think I need your help."

"Either you need my help or you don't, Molly," Sherlock said.

Molly said quietly, "I saw an angel statue outside the window, or I thought I did. Now, it's gone, but I heard some commotion upstairs."

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked.

"The morgue like always," she said.

"We'll be right there," he said, hanging up the phone.

"But you just said you figured out where Mary is," John said sternly.

Sherlock went back into the Tardis. "The angel is at St. Barts, but Mary is at Baker Street," he said, "We have to go for Mary."

The Doctor said quickly, "Alright, we're not discussing this again. We'll split up. You two go to Baker Street. The rest of us will go to the hospital."

The cemetery wasn't far from Baker Street. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes to run. Sherlock stepped back out of the Tardis and grabbed John's hand.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded and said, "Once we get Mary, yes."

"Okay," Sherlock said, "Let's go get your wife."

Together, they ran off towards Baker Street while the Tardis dematerialized behind them.


	16. The Great Escapist

Dean hopped out of the Tardis the second it landed at the hospital. He didn't know how yet, but he knew he was going to kill the weeping angel. And it was going to feel great. He shrugged his shoulders a few times to make sure his jacket wasn't catching on the handle of the First Blade that was tucked in his waistband. The last thing he needed was Sam having a bitch fit that he brought the weapon.

"We'll start at the top. Work your way up to us," River said.

Sam stepped out of the Tardis with Cas and Gabriel, following Dean into the hospital.

Immediately, Dean let his eyes turn black as he scanned for anything out of the ordinary.

"I'm going to check on Molly and make sure she's okay," Sam said, avoiding any and all eye contact with Dean.

Dean nodded absently, staring up at the ceiling. He could see the energy pulsing through the fluorescent lights, and he could see beyond that to the people milling around upstairs. It was unimaginably beautiful.

Gabriel went down to the morgue with Sam when Dean saw something expell a lot of energy by moving on the third floor.

"I see it," Dean said.

Cas said, "Okay, good. Where?"

"I'm going for it," Dean said.

Cas said quickly, "Dean, wait-" But Dean teleported to the third floor without another second's hesitation.

He stared intently through unblinking, black eyes at the angel statue in the empty hallway. Quickly, with a single thought directing his demonic mojo, he locked all the doors on the floor. Dean didn't need any humans getting in the way of him and his prey.

The weeping angel had its hands up like usual, but it was clearly peering through its fingers at him. Dean pulled the First Blade out and brandished it in his right hand. He couldn't very well stab stone, but the Doctor had said the angels turn to stone when observed. If he stabbed the angel without looking, his blade might find purchase. Demon senses were such a gift sometimes. He made his way closer to the angel.

"I really hope this kills you," Dean growled at the statue.

Slowly, Dean closed his eyes and let his other senses take over. His ears picked up the movement, and his heightened reflexes helped him embed the First Blade in the angel's torso.

His weapon penetrated effortlessly, sending chills of pleasure through Dean's demonic flesh. It definitely wasn't stone that his blade slid through. The resistance felt much more like flesh and gel than anything else. It was pure ecstacy in Dean's hands.

Before Dean opened his eyes, the angel's hand moved through the air toward's Dean's neck. He felt the motion and teleported instantly, reappearing several feet away with his back to the statue.

Cas came up the stairwell and shook his head at Dean. "That was incredibly reckless," he said.

Dean grinned as Cas glanced at the angel.

The First Blade snapped in half as the weeping angel became solid stone. Dean let out a cry of pain as his soul felt like it was being electrocuted. He dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest. The Mark on his arm started seering.

Cas ran forward, catching Dean as he fell to the ground at the same time as half of the First Blade clattered to the floor.

"Dean," Cas said, panicked, "What's happening? Heal yourself."

Dean felt his eyes flicker between green and black involuntarily. Blood started to pour out of his chest where Metatron had stabbed him so long ago.

"Dean. No, come on!" Cas shouted, putting pressure on Dean's chest.

Sam came up the stairs. "Where's the angel?" he asked.

Dean screamed in pain, not present enough to care that he didn't kill the weeping angel.

Sam's attention snapped to Dean. He ran to his brother and said, "Holy shit. Dean. What happened?"

Cas said, alarmed, "I can't heal him."

Dean watched as his arms and chest flickered the way he'd seen so many demons flash as they died. This was it, the end of the line, and Dean knew it.

Sam shouted quickly, "Gabriel!" Instantly, the archangel stood beside them.

"What's the-oh, crap," Gabriel said, seeing Dean's state. He pressed a hand to Dean's chest and the flashing stopped.

"His soul is dying. I can hold his energy here but only just," Gabriel said, "I can't heal a demon."

Sam looked from Dean to Gabriel. "We need to cure him. Now," he said.

Dean fought the urge to move despite the agonizing pain. He was afraid of what might happen if Gabriel let go of him.

Sam said quickly, "Cas, stay here. Rendezvous with the Doctor, and tell him what's going on."

"I won't leave Dean," Cas said sternly. Dean clapped a hand to Cas' arm, making Cas look at him.

"He needs my blood, and he needs Gabriel to keep him alive through the process. You're the one who has to stay," Sam said. Dean groaned as blood continued to seep into his shirt.

"Stay...here," Dean wheezed.

Cas withdrew his hand from Dean's chest, and instantly, Dean, Sam, and Gabriel were transported to a church.

"We need to get this show on the road," Gabriel said, "He's hard to hold onto."

"I need to confess," Sam said, "And then he'll need eight injections of my blood, one every hour."

"Great. Awesome. Confess quickly, please," Gabriel said.

Sam nearly sprinted to the confessional.

Dean closed his eyes and felt himself become somewhat numb to the pain.

"Oh, no you don't," Gabriel said, his palm beginning to glow, "C'mon, Dean-o. Stay with me."

Dean acutely felt the jolt of grace digging into his soul. The pain came back in full force, and Dean could do nothing to prevent a choked cry of agony from escaping his lips.

"Hang in there. No pain, no gain, right?" Gabriel said.

Sam came back out and asked, "Do you have a syringe?"

Gabriel manifested one with his free hand and said, "Stop making me multitask, Sammy. This isn't as easy as it looks."

Sam took the syringe and, using a strip of his shirt as a tourniquet, drew blood from his arm. "Sorry about this," he said as he stuck the needle in Dean's neck and pressed the plunger.

Dean felt his eyes turn black involuntarily. It was the slowest and most uncomfortable his eyes had ever transitioned. He felt the human blood filter through his veins, each drop leaving a trail of fire and scorching pain. Dean screamed and lost consciousness.

When Dean came to, the light filtering in through the church windows had dimmed drastically.

He groaned, and Gabriel said, "Hey, he's back." Sam rushed over and put a hand on the side of his brother's face.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean opened his eyes fully and coughed up blood. Gabriel helped Dean tilt his head to the side, so he didn't choke on the blood.

"What's going on?" Dean croaked.

Sam said, "We're curing you. Two doses left."

Dean groaned miserably.

Sam glanced at his watch, grabbed a syringe, and stabbed it into Dean's neck. "Correction," he said, "One dose left."

Dean started to feel warmer as his system absorbed Sam's blood. It wasn't like he was overheating but more like he was finally warming up after being very cold. It felt like he was thawing from having been on ice...or spent too much time in a room with Lucifer.

"Sam," Dean said, voice cracking. Gabriel said, "You should save your strength, idiot. You're not out of the woods yet."

Dean ignored Gabriel. "Curing me...isn't gonna...kill you...right?" he asked.

Sam shook his head and said, "No, I'm not trying to do a trial with this. I'll be fine."

Dean looked at his brother and said with a bit more strength in his voice, "Sam, I'm sorry."

"That's just the blood talking," Sam said.

"No, I mean it," Dean said, words shaking occasionally, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I took the Mark of Cain without thinking. I'm sorry I became a demon."

"I get it, Dean," Sam said flatly.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Dean said earnestly, "And even if it is the blood talking, that just means I'm becoming human. You've got to believe me, Sammy. I'm sorry."

Sam said softly, "I forgive you, okay? Really. I'm just glad you're letting us cure you. Now, stop wasting your strength. We still have another syringe."

Gabriel sighed, not moving his hand from Dean's chest, "Yeah, in another hour. This whole process takes entirely too long."

Dean closed his eyes and tried not to breathe too deeply. It was sort of comforting to require breathing again, but each full breath caused twinges of pain in his chest that only added to the joy of the sharp pins and needle sensation he felt through his whole body.

An hour later, Sam injected Dean with the last shot of his blood. Dean gasped in pain as his black eyes receded permanently. Everywhere hurt. Everything hurt. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire, like he was feeling everything for the first time. The disconnect between his soul and his body disappeared with a painful snap.

Gabriel grinned and asked, "How's it feel to reconnect, Dean?"

Dean groaned and spit up more blood.

"Oh, right. You're dying. I'm sorry," Gabriel said. Quickly, he healed Dean's wounds with a small burst of light from his hand. "Better?" he asked.

Dean nodded shakily and tried to stand.

"Dean, no," Sam said, "You need to rest."

"We have to find the weeping angel," Dean argued, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried to stand again.

Sam put a hand on Dean's chest and with only a small push managed to knock Dean on his back.

"You need to build up some strength, Dean. Ride the pine for a bit, okay?"

Dean sighed and remained collapsed on the ground. "Fine," he said, "Go help the others with the angel or Moriarty or whatever's going on. How long have we even been here?"

"Eight hours," Sam said.

"Great," Dean said, "Yeah, go find the others, figure out what's going on. Just come back for me, okay?"

Sam laughed, "Dean, I'm not going anywhere."

"Have you heard from the others in the last eight hours?" Dean pressed.

Sam gave Dean a worried look. "I can't just leave you in the middle of a church," he said.

Gabriel said quickly, "I'll keep an eye on him. He'll be fine, promise."

Sam reluctantly nodded. Gabriel snapped his fingers, and Sam was gone.

"Where'd you send him?" Dean asked.

"The hospital," Gabriel said, "If nobody's there, he has a phone. He'll figure it out."

Dean sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "So, this is what it feels like to have an archangel actually care," he said.

Gabriel laughed, "You think I'm here for you? That's precious, Dean, really. No, I'm here for Sam. I'd be a distraction if I went with him."

Dean was about to ask for clarification when Gabriel doubled over, collapsing next to Dean. He shook violently and struggled through several painful sounding coughs.

"Gabriel?" Dean said as he tried to sit up. He put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. He asked, "Are you okay?"

Slowly, Gabriel gasped and stilled, laying on the ground. "I'll be fine. Saving your ass took a lot more out of me than I thought," he said.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Dean said.

Gabriel coughed and said, "Yeah, don't mention it."

Dean rolled back on his back and closed his eyes as Gabriel completely passed out.


	17. The Sound of Drums

After the timelords split from the Winchesters and their angels, the Doctor and River landed the Tardis on the roof.

"So, Sherlock was really going to jump from up here?" River asked.

"You'd be surprised by what he's willing to do for his friends," the Doctor said. He looked around the roof and asked, "Ready?"

River threw open the door to the inside of the hospital. "Next floor," she said.

Before they went downstairs, the Doctor turned around and said, "River, wait." The weeping angel stood on the edge of the roof, one hand covering its face, the other clutching its side.

"Don't stop staring at that," River said quickly.

The Doctor stared down the statue as he walked towards it. He glanced at the hand covering its lower torso. Something must have happened. "How did something hurt you?" the Doctor asked.

River picked up a lead pipe lying next to a power box on the roof. "Doctor, move," she said.

The Doctor glanced at the pipe and asked, "What are you planning on doing with that?"

River said, "Stop the statue."

The Doctor moved away as River stared at the statue. She ran towards the angel, swung the pipe as hard as she could, and hit the weeping angel off the roof. Staring at it as it fell, River made sure it wouldn't escape. The weeping angel shattered on the concrete. A few pedestrians on the other side of the street stared, startled.

"It's just going to regenerate from that, you know," the Doctor said, peering over the side of the roof.

"Yeah, but now, it can't run away," River said happily. She sauntered to the Tardis, the Doctor following quickly after.

As they flew down to the street level, the Doctor asked, "So, what's your plan? Sweep up the pieces, put it in a bag, and send it to Purgatory?"

The Doctor fumbled one of the levers and sent the Tardis spinning. Quickly, he leveled out the blue box and landed it across the street. River shot the Doctor an exasperated look and left the Tardis.

"Do you even have a bag?" the Doctor called after her.

She held up a purse as she made her way to the statue fragments.

The Doctor asked, "Where did you get that?"

"My room," she said, crouching to pick up pieces of weeping angel, "Are you going to help me or what?"

"But you didn't go to your room," the Doctor argued, stooping to grab a stone arm.

"I grabbed the bag when you said there was another angel. Why does it matter?" she said, tossing part of the angel's head in the bag.

"Was it always part of the plan to toss the weeping angel off of the roof?" the Doctor asked.

River stopped picking up pieces and looked at the Doctor. "What's going on, Doctor? Why are you interrogating me?" she asked.

"I know you like to shoot first, but usually you share your plans before doing something reckless," the Doctor said.

River sighed, "I wasn't intending to throw the angel off the roof, but I was going to smash it. After the last one, this needed to be dealt with quickly. And you never share your plans, so I don't see why I can't keep secrets."

"Well, I didn't recently pop out of the ground after being dead," the Doctor.

River grabbed a piece of statue and shoved it in her bag angrily. "I thought you said you were okay with this," she snapped.

"I am. I really am. It's just when you act like this-"

"When I act like what, Doctor? I'm acting like me, and you're acting like I'm going to turn rabid because I took care of the problem."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said quickly, "I guess I forgot what it's like working with you."

River smiled and teased, "Am I too much for you to handle?"

The Doctor decided not to respond to that, picked up an angel fragment, and asked, "Is your bag big enough for all of this?"

She said, "Well, this is my bag. Timelord technology, sweetie. It'll fit and then some."

The Doctor wanted to know if the bag really was bigger on the inside when Cas walked up to them.

"You got the angel?" Cas asked.

River laughed, "You could say that."

Cas knelt and picked up a piece of bone from the shattered remains and glared at it.

"What's that?" the Doctor asked.

Cas said quietly, "It's half of the First Blade." The angel looked very troubled.

The Doctor looked at River.

River, returning the concerned look, asked Cas, "Where are the others?"

"At a church, I imagine," Castiel replied.

"Why would they be at a church?" the Doctor asked.

"They are attempting to cure Dean of his demonic state to save his life. A church is somewhat required," Cas explained.

"Dean's a demon?" River asked.

"Certainly explains a few things about his scan," the Doctor said.

"Wait, he might die?" the Doctor and River said in unison.

Cas glanced between them and nodded, eyes tight.

"I don't know anything about demons," the Doctor said, "I don't know physiology, medical techniques, nothing. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Cas shook his head and said, "Nothing that isn't already being done. The process will take at least eight hours. We should go to Baker Street."

The Doctor nodded, put the last shard of stone angel wing into the bag, and stood up. "First, Purgatory. Then, Baker Street," he said.

River grabbed the bag and said, "I'll take it. Back in a bit."

Cas said, "Wait. Take this with you." He handed her the piece of the First Blade he held in his hands.

River tossed it in the bag and disappeared using the vortex manipulator. Quickly she reappeared without the bag in hand and said, "Let's go."

The three of them walked into the Tardis.

"So, what are we going to do about Moriarty?" River asked.

The Doctor walked to the Tardis console and put in the coordinates for Baker Street. He said, "It depends on what the situation is with Mary. We'll have to play it by ear. What I don't understand is how he survived a gunshot to the head."

River pointed out, "Sherlock faked his death, didn't he? Why couldn't Moriarty have done the same?"

"I helped Sherlock fake the fall," the Doctor said, "Moriarty was dead when I got there."

"I have a few ideas," Cas said, "But Uriel is the funniest angel in the garrison, ask anyone."

"What?" River asked, looking at Cas, confused.

Cas blinked and looked at River. "What?" he asked.

"Why did you just say that Uriel is the funniest angel?" the Doctor asked, curious.

Cas said quickly, "I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did," River said, stepping closer to Cas. She looked into his eyes, examining him.

"I don't have much time," Cas said. He looked at something far away and said, "I got out."

River looked at Cas, confused and glanced at the Doctor for his input.

The Doctor had no idea what was going on with Cas. He said, "Castiel?"

"Listen to me!" Cas said suddenly, gaze still far off, "Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be."

The Doctor got closer and shined a light in Cas' eyes. What was happening? He clearly wasn't talking to them.

"If it is a trickster," Cas said.

The Doctor put his hands on the sides of Cas' face and said, "Cas. Hello? You still in there?"

Cas' eyes snapped to the Doctor's face, and he gasped.

"What's happening to me?" Cas asked quietly.

The Doctor said, "I don't know, but I think you should stay here when we get to Baker Street. We'll figure out what's going on with you, I promise."

Cas nodded and sat down on the steps towards the door, thoroughly confused. "Before we go," he said, "I think Moriarty might not be human. It would explain how he's alive right now."

"How will we know?" River asked.

"Most supernatural things don't do well with silver, but if he's a demon, saying 'Christo' will let you know if that's what you're dealing with," Cas said. He closed his eyes, and the Doctor looked over at River worriedly.

The Doctor quickly started scanning Cas as he flew the Tardis to Baker Street.

When the blue box landed in 221B, Sherlock stood, stunned, staring at John, John knelt over an unconscious Mary on the floor, and Moriarty held a gun to the back of John's head.

"Good of you to join us," Moriarty said to the Doctor with a smile.

The Doctor looked to Sherlock, but Sherlock wouldn't take his eyes away from John and the gun.

"Moriarty, I presume," the Doctor said.

"And you're the Doctor," Moriarty curtsied and said, "Doctor who? Who knows? Who cares? Your own brain doesn't seem to know your name."

River glanced at the Doctor nervously.

So, Moriarty was in his head. This was specifically why the Doctor kept his thoughts as controlled as he could. After what had happened on the train in Midnight, he had mental walls around his name that no one could get through.

"Silence will fall when the question is asked," Moriarty giggled, "How interesting. What's the question?"

"You can't be serious," the Doctor sighed.

Sherlock took a step towards Moriarty, and Moriarty tightened his finger on the trigger. "Ah, ah, ah. I still owe you a fall, Sherlock," he said, grinning.

Sherlock stopped.

The Doctor asked quickly, hoping to provide more distraction, "How did you get weeping angels to help you?"

"It's amazing the friendships you can form with some spare human vocal chords and a blind fold. After I rescued them from themselves, they were more than happy to help me get to Sherlock," Moriarty explained, still watching Sherlock with an icy stare.

"What do you want from me?" Sherlock demanded.

Moriarty said, "But it's so much fun when you have to guess! And I already told you, you're just missing the parts to put it together. Unless someone else told you. Do you know? Did they tell?"

"What don't I know?" Sherlock asked.

Moriarty looked back at the Doctor. "Did you notice? I bet you didn't. It's hard to tell unless you really look," he said. He turned to Sherlock and said, "I told you, you're on the side of angels. I'm sure you took that symbolically, but now that you're literally on the side of angels, what do you think I meant?"

"Christo," River said.

Moriarty flinched, eyes turning black, and laughed, facing River, "You're getting closer."

"What are you?" Sherlock asked, clearly bewildered.

Moriarty's smile reached his black eyes as he asked, "Do you know how amazing it would be for a demon to capture a fallen angel?"

Sherlock glanced at the Doctor, and the Doctor stared back. Was that what Moriarty was on about? He thought Sherlock was a fallen angel?

Sherlock said, confused, "You're a demon. I'm supposed to believe that?"

Before anything else could be said, Cas walked through the Tardis door, walked straight up to Moriarty, moved the gun from John's head, and stabbed Moriarty in the chest with a knife. Moriarty gasped and stared at Cas as he flashed brightly, dying.

Sherlock rushed to John and Mary.

"You knew he was a demon before you stabbed him, right?" the Doctor asked.

Cas nodded and said, "Yes, I heard what was going on out here."

John pressed a hand to Mary's neck. "She has a pulse," he said, "We need to get her out of here."

Sherlock said, "John, she needs to rest. If we move her now, not knowing what Moriarty did with her, we could exacerbate her condition."

"We can't just leave her on the floor," John argued.

Sherlock said, "We can put her in my bed, but the less we move her, the better."

After they moved Mary to Sherlock's room, Mrs. Hudson came upstairs to see everyone gathered in Sherlock's living room.

The Doctor waved hello as she took in everyone in the room.

"I'll put some more tea on," she said, "Is everyone staying for dinner? I haven't cooked for a group of people in a long time, and it'd be very nice." She paused and asked, "Is that a body?"

Sherlock said with a forced smile, "Cook whatever you'd like. We'll be here for a while."

The Doctor glanced over at Cas as the angel checked his phone. They needed to do something with Moriarty's body before he worried about checking Cas' scans. But there was something seriously wrong with that angel.


	18. The Blind Angel

Sherlock was checking in on Mary, who had woken up briefly but not for long, when Sam Winchester called John's phone.

John answered his phone, looked at Sherlock quickly, and left him alone with Mary.

Sherlock took Mary's hand in his and gazed down at her. She was the single most important thing in John's world. She was there for John when he wasn't, she was carrying John's child, and above all else, she loved him. Sherlock had no right to come between them. But it was John, not Sherlock, who had said the words. But John loved Mary. Any idiot could see that. It would be better if Sherlock just left them alone. But he didn't want to hurt John like that again. What was he going to do?

John walked back into the room. "Sam is back at the hospital. He needs us to go get him. You coming?" he asked.

"Are you leaving Mary?" Sherlock asked.

John said, "She'll be safer here than travelling in the Tardis in her condition."

"That's not what I meant," Sherlock said.

John stared at Sherlock for a moment until a pained look filtered into his eyes. Sherlock didn't want John to leave his wife, but he didn't want John to reject him either. No good news could come from the look on John's face.

"I'm not going to leave Mary," John said, "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I just-I can't."

Well, that answered that.

Sherlock headed towards the Tardis to pick up Sam. The Doctor and River glanced over at Sherlock as he walked past them into the blue box.

John ran after Sherlock into the Tardis, and the door snapped shut, leaving the Doctor and River on the outside.

John whirled around and stared at the closed door. "Did you do that?" he asked.

Sherlock shook his head in response and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge.

"Doctor, can you hear me?" Sherlock called.

"Yes," the Doctor said, "Open the door."

"We can't," Sherlock said.

The Doctor shouted, "What do you mean you can't?"

Sherlock said quickly, "The doors shut on their own. We're stuck."

John looked at Sherlock, worried. Sherlock didn't know what exactly was happening, but being trapped gave him a potent feeling of being in serious danger. He kept the fear from his face for John's sake.

Behind them, a light went out.

Sherlock asked the Doctor, "Don't you have a key?"

"It's not working...Cas says he's going to call Gabriel. Hold on," the Doctor said. Sherlock pressed his back to the door. As long as the Tardis didn't take off, they'd be fine.

Another light blew out, then another, and another until the only source of light was coming from the Tardis console.

"This is not good," John said.

Sherlock said quietly, "No, it is not."

"What's happening in there?" the Doctor asked.

"Something turned off the lights," John said.

The Doctor shouted, "Is there any light left?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, "The console is still lit up."

"Go there! Stay out of the shadows!" the Doctor shouted.

John and Sherlock ran up the steps to the console and stood in what little light it provided.

The Doctor's voice was suddenly everywhere as he asked, "Are you both okay?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, "What's going on? How can we hear you?"

The Doctor said, "I reworked the intercom from the outside. It's not important right now. What you're dealing with is Vashta Nerada. They are flesh eating creatures that live in shadows. How many shadows do you have?"

"Flesh eating creatures?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. How many shadows do you have?" the Doctor asked urgently.

"One each," Sherlock said.

The Doctor gave a sigh of relief and said, "Good. If either of you get another one, tell me."

"This is insane," John said, turning to face Sherlock, "We're going to die, aren't we?"

"No, we're not going to die. They're working on a way to get us out. We'll be fine," Sherlock said.

John sighed and said, "Sherlock, you're a horrible liar." He turned away from Sherlock and accidentally stepped a foot out of the safety of the dim light.

"John!" Sherlock shouted.

John screamed in pain as the darkness swallowed his leg.

Sherlock pulled John to him and out of the shadow. John collapsed against him, eyes blown wide. He was clearly going into shock.

Sherlock looked down at John's leg when the Doctor shouted over the intercom, "What happened? What's going on?"

Sherlock's heart was hammering in his chest. It took him a moment to think. Quickly, Sherlock laid John down on the floor beside the console, making sure no part of him touched shadow. He removed his scarf and tied it high on John's thigh tightly.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said as John cried out.

"Sherlock, what's happening?" the Doctor shouted.

Sherlock took off his jacket, wrapping it around the white bone to stem the blood flow from what was left of John's thigh. "John stepped in the shadow. His leg is gone. He's going to bleed out."

Gabriel's voice filled the intercom, "Was your birth planned?"

"What does that-"

"Cas says Moriarty called you a fallen angel. If you are, you could save John. Was your birth planned?"

"Mycroft was planned, I was an accident," Sherlock said. It was something his brother was all too happy to remind him of.

"Open the panel under the console where the most light is coming from," Gabriel said.

"No," the Doctor protested quickly, "He can't absorb the time vortex. He'd die."

"If he's an angel, he could use it as grace to heal John," Gabriel argued.

"But if he's not an angel, he'll die," the Doctor said.

Sherlock shouted, "Would I be able to save John if I'm just human?"

The Doctor said, "Well, yes, but I would really advise against this sort of risk. This is your life, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at John. His friend's breath was coming in heaves and whimpers. He'd lost a lot of blood. Sherlock wrenched open the panel under the console without a moment's hesitation. He loved him. It wasn't a choice, it was the only option.

Sherlock stared into the bright cosmic expanse swirling within the Tardis. The tiny stars and lights enticed Sherlock to come closer. He didn't fight it. He had to save John. An infinity like Sherlock could never have imagined poured from the heart of the Tardis into his head.

It was hot. It was so unbearably hot, heat searing through his system like he'd absorbed lightning. His whole body felt like fire. The energy started at Sherlock's eyes and mouth, then slowly grew to encompass all of him as he exploded with white hot light. He felt like his essence was being ripped apart by time itself.

But he needed to stay together. He needed to save John. Everything in him screamed at him to save John.

A quiet calm fell over the inspector as he moved the lightning in his head out towards his hands. His hands glowed, and with a single thought, he sent a beam of light streaming into the Tardis, obliterating any Vashta Nerada in its path. Sherlock felt the molecules of the dark things shattered. As the shadowy swarm died, the lights of the Tardis regained the strength to light up the room.

Sherlock could see the life draining from John. He could see his energy, his essence, collapsing and flowing out with the blood. Placing a hand to John's chest, he used the power of space and time to heal John's leg as if the Vashta Nerada had never been there to begin with.

John gasped and sat up, looking at his leg. "How did you-?" he said, "I thought the Doctor said something about you dying."

"I took the time vortex into my head," Sherlock said.

John stared at him, wide eyed and said, "Don't you dare die, Sherlock."

Sherlock grinned, knowing his eyes were glowing rather than his hands, and said, "Not dying. Looks like I'm a fallen angel."

John said, "Yes, as if you needed to add to your ego. Just in case you're not an angel, you should really put that back."

Sherlock felt the energy start building in his head again and had to agree. He looked into the console, forcing the energy to surge back into its place in the Tardis.

Once it was out, and Sherlock was back to normal, his head felt empty and dark like there was too much space left.

"Well, I'm not dead," Sherlock said.

"So, you're an angel. What does that mean?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged. He didn't know much about angels aside from Gabriel and Castiel, and he barely knew them.

An excruciating pain shot through Sherlock's head and down his spine. He cried out in pain, falling back onto the floor.

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

The Doctor finally got the Tardis door open and ran in towards the console.

Cas rushed to Sherlock's side and touched two fingers to Sherlock's forehead. The pain stopped as Sherlock lost all consciousness.


	19. Good God, Y'all

Cas gave what was left of his grace to heal Sherlock. The inspector took a breath of life as Cas doubled over on the floor of the Tardis.

Dean rushed to Cas, kneeling next to him quickly. "Cas, hey, you okay?" he asked.

Cas had a far away look in his eyes, but he said softly, "Dean."

"Yeah, Cas, I'm right here," Dean said.

"No," Cas said, "I feel regret...about you and what I did to Sam."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. He started to get the feeling that Cas wasn't really seeing him.

"If there was time, if I was strong enough, I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die," Cas said.

"Sam's fine," Dean said, "And Sherlock's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. Everything's fine."

Cas looked up at Dean, but his eyes weren't focused. The look gave Dean chills.

"Cas, are you hearing me?" Dean asked.

"Is it working?" Cas asked.

"Cas, c'mon. Snap out of it," Dean said.

Cas said quietly, "No."

For a brief moment, Dean thought Cas was actually responding to him, but the look on Cas' face told him different. He put a hand on Cas' shoulder and said, "Cas, please. We need you. Look at me."

"You?" Cas asked.

Dean stared at Cas' dazed expression, and the words Cas said started to sound familiar.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said.

With the tone in Cas' voice, he knew exactly what Cas was talking about.

Dean looked at the Doctor and said, "He said this stuff to me a couple years ago after he became God. This was what he said before he died. Does that help at all?"

"After he became God?" River asked, confused, "He was God?"

The Doctor ran over to the scanner, staring at it intensely. "Regression? That is not good," he said.

Cas said, "I'll find some way to redeem myself to you."

"You already did, Cas," Dean said. He put a hand on Cas' face, kissed him softly, and said, "Come on. Come back. I need you. Please."

Cas blinked, eyes searching Dean's face. "Why am I on the ground?" he asked.

Dean helped him up and asked, "Do you know what you were just saying?"

Cas shook his head.

"You were saying the stuff you said before you walked into the lake with the leviathans," Dean said.

Cas squinted in confusion. "Why would I say that?" he asked.

The Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at Cas.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm sorry, Dean," the Doctor said, "I need you to step away from Castiel."

"Cas? What? Why?"

"I didn't notice until recently, but I should've seen-It's very hard to detect, you see-I'm very sorry."

"Doctor, I don't-" Dean started, entwining his fingers with Cas'.

"Sam," the Doctor beckoned.

Hesitantly, Sam stepped forward and pulled Dean away from Cas.

"Sammy..." Dean growled.

Sam ignored him.

The sonic emitted its shrill tone as Cas looked over at Dean. "I love you," he said.

Cas melted into a puddle of milky white goop on the floor of the Tardis.

"Cas!" Dean shouted.

"Was never really here," the Doctor explained quickly. He pulled up the first scan he took of Cas.

"What do you mean he was never really here?" Dean shouted, "He was right there! He's been with us this whole time!"

"He was a flesh doppleganger. They are made to exactly copy a person to the point that they may believe they are who they copy. This must have been an advanced form of flesh in order to house even a little bit of angelic grace. It's really quite interesting."

"That's ridiculous. If he wasn't an angel, Gabriel would've noticed."

"Excuse me," Gabriel said, "But have you seen Cas lately? He became God, he became human, he stole another angel's grace. Of course he didn't look like himself."

Dean had to admit Gabriel had a point.

"Try to think about it. Why did he start saying things that didn't make sense?" the Doctor asked.

"I don't-" Dean said.

"Has he been gone from you guys for any extended period of time?" the Doctor asked.

"All the time," Dean said, "The guy doesn't usually stick in one place for too long."

"What about four years ago? Did anything happen around then to separate you?" the Doctor asked.

Dean tried not to think about what happened four years ago. Watching Sam fall into the cage wasn't something he liked to relive.

"It was the apocalypse. We were separated a lot," Dean said.

"It was the what?" River asked.

Dean ignored her. No need to explain the end of the world. "So, where's the real Cas, then?" he asked.

"The scan I first took of him says his skin was four years old. Actually..." the Doctor said, going through other scans, "His skin was exactly one day younger than Sam's."

Gabriel looked at Dean, and they both looked at Sam. Dean knew exactly where Cas was.

"Holy shit," Gabriel said.

Dean slammed his hand on the nearest railing angrily. He couldn't lose Cas again. He couldn't do it.

"We have to get him out," Dean said.

Sam said, "But this is the cage, Dean."

John gasped and asked, "The cage? Like Lucifer's cage? You can't really be considering opening it."

"We can't just leave him," Dean snapped. He sat on the steps leading up to the console, his back to the others.

Sam sat next to Dean and said, "Even if we decided to risk a second apocalypse to get Castiel back, how would we open the cage? We only have three of the horsemen's rings, and I don't think Death will just let us have his ring again."

"How do the rings work?" the Doctor asked, "Maybe we can find a substitute for the fourth."

"They seemed magnetic, but honestly, I have no idea. They're at the bunker if you want to look at them," Dean said.

"We can't open the cage, Dean," Sam pressed.

Dean stared at Sam in disbelief and said, "Sam, this is Cas we're talking about."

"He's been in there for over four years. That's nearly five hundred hell years that he's been in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. There might not be much left of him to save," Sam said softly.

Dean said quickly, "And he shouldn't be in there any longer. We have to get him out."

The Doctor put the coordinates for the Men of Letters bunker in the console.

Gabriel sat on Dean's other side and said, "Let's say we open the cage. Let's say we get it open, and Cas is still alive in there. The cage is strong enough to hold archangels for centuries. How are we going to get him out?"

"We'll figure it out," Dean said stubbornly.

Gabriel snapped, "No. We are not risking the planet again without a damn good plan, kid."

"Someone could go in with the vortex manipulator. They can grab Cas and come back," Dean said.

Gabriel gave Dean a sympathetic look and said, "Look, Dean. I get that you want Cas back, I do, but that probably won't work, and you'd be trapping one of us in Cas' place. If he went in for Sam, he knew he wasn't coming back. Could you really ask someone to do that for him?"

"We're not leaving him," Dean said angrily. He stood up and asked, "We need to get Cas back. Do any of you have a plan?"

The Doctor said, "Let's have a look at the horsemen's rings, and I'll get back to you on that."

Dean hung onto the railing as the Tardis transported them all to Kansas.

When they got out, Dean unlocked the door, and watched everyone file in. Honestly, he was shocked when Sherlock barely needed help to walk. Apparently, Cas' attempt at healing had done some serious good.

John's phone rang. He answered and said, "Hey, how are you? Are you okay?...Well, something came up, I'm sorry. We're...we're in Kansas. It's a long..."

Dean assumed it was Mary and decided not to listen in.

The Doctor quickly grabbed Dean's attention. "Where are the rings?" he asked.

Dean led him to the artifacts archive and pulled out the small warded box he'd put them in. He hadn't been too keen to leave the rings anywhere, but they were much safer in the bunker than they'd been in the trunk of his car. He handed the Doctor the rings and was almost shocked at how fast the Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver to examine the horsemen's rings.

"Are there any other ways to use the rings? There are several layers of magnetic pull, but they also seem to conduct their own sort of energy. I think my sonic should be able to replace the frequency of the last ring," the Doctor said, "If they connected in a different way, they may be able to do something other than open a hole into the cage."

Dean shrugged, but he knew where he could find out. He walked over to the paper archives where he was surprised to find Sam and Gabriel pouring through files.

River glanced around at the racks of paper stacks and asked, "Are you sure this is the most efficient way to store this much information?"

Dean ignored her and took a stack of files from Sam. "The Doctor says the rings may have other uses," he said, "You guys find anything about that?"

Gabriel took a breath and said, "I was there when God and Virgil made the rings. They definitely have other uses. They can open other doors to the cage, but it would be horribly, terribly dangerous on a level that I cannot impress upon you enough."

Dean asked, "Could we rearrange the rings to get Cas out of the cage?"

Gabriel grabbed Dean's forearm and fixed him with a deadly stare. "We could get Cas out, but it would leave the door wide open for Lucifer and Michael. Whoever went in after Cas would have to be faster than the two most powerful archangels in the universe. We'd be condemning the world," he said.

Dean looked at the rings in the Doctor's hands. He'd done stupider things for a whole lot less.

"Would an archangel be fast enough?" Dean asked.

Gabriel looked at Dean in shock.

Sam quickly said, "You can't ask him to do that."

"He just did, Sam," Gabriel said, "But I'm not faster than my brothers."

"We'd have the element of surprise. They wouldn't expect us to open the cage like that. It's an insane plan. That'd at least give you a head start. It's worth a shot," Dean said.

Gabriel said, "Even then, it is a huge risk, an insanely huge risk."

"Cas is worth it," Dean said.

Sam said, "You don't have to do this, Gabriel. I mean, Cas is family, but it's still a lot to ask."

Gabriel took a moment and looked at his hands. If he said no, not much would keep Dean from jumping into the pit and getting Cas out himself.

The archangel said, "Well, I guess it's just about time I made a self sacrifice play for my own brother, huh?"

Sam gave Gabriel a worried look, and it took everything Dean had not to hug the guy.

"Thank you," Dean said.

Gabriel stood up, clapped a hand on Dean's back, and said, "Anything for family, right?" He looked at Sam and asked, "Where's your room? After saving Dean this morning, I need to crash before I go to Hell tomorrow."

Sam led Gabriel down the hall as Sherlock asked Dean, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Dean sighed, the thought of Cas being stuck in Hell tying his stomach in knots, and said, "Not really. Just be prepared for a potential apocalypse."

They'd save Cas. They had to.


	20. A Good Man Goes to War

The Doctor watched River browsing through the Winchester's archives. It was true that their collection of knowledge was impressive, but the Doctor loved watching River flip through the pages. Being as smart as she was, the Doctor knew she was half reading and half checking for factual error. Truly adorable.

Somebody the Doctor hadn't seen before walked into the room.

In a southern drawl the person said to Dean, "I didn't know you're back. Did you know Sam's cuddled up with some guy? It's freakin weird." He paused and looked around the room. He said, "Well, we certainly have company. What's going on?"

"Something potentially catastrophic," the Doctor said.

Dean stood up and said, "Guys, this is Benny. Benny, this is complicated, but this is the Doctor and River Song. They are timelords. Yeah, don't ask. And this is Sherlock, and you already met John. As for Sam and the archangel, Gabriel, I'm not exactly surprised."

Benny nodded as he took everything in. "Archangel, huh? I shouldn't even ask. I don't wanna know. So, what're you up to now? I'm not gonna want any part of it, am I?" he asked.

"We're opening Lucifer's cage and might start another apocalypse," Sherlock said.

Benny grinned and turned to Dean.

Dean's serious expression made Benny drop his smile. "You're seriously going to open the cage? Are you-Yeah, I want no part of this. Why the hell are you-you know what? I don't wanna know," he said.

"Cas is in the cage," Dean said.

Benny froze, staring at Dean, concerned. He snapped out of it, and said, "If I know anything, I know you'll find him. Good luck, brother. Let me know if you break the world. I'll be here."

Benny clapped a hand to Dean's shoulder in reassurance and left the room.

"Well, he seems nice," River said to Dean.

Dean nodded and said, "Yeah, he's a good guy."

A few hours later, they'd reconvened in the kitchen where John was distracting Dean by attempting to make cheeseburgers.

Sam wandered in and said to the Doctor, "We're ready to go if you are."

The Doctor had never met Lucifer, and he was still very skeptical about the whole idea of him, but he really wasn't sure about this whole plan. At the same time, though, he knew Dean was going to open the cage. The Doctor very much preferred being there when he did even if it was just as back up.

"Are we ready to go?" the Doctor asked the room.

Dean dropped his burger and headed for the Tardis.

"I'll take that as a yes," the Doctor said. Everyone headed to the Tardis.

Once at the console, the Doctor put in the coordinates for Lawrence, Kansas of all places.

The graveyard was quiet when they got there, completely empty aside from one man staring at a solitary grave.

Dean handed the Doctor the rings and said, "Keep these safe." He walked towards the man and shouted, "Crowley!"

Sam sighed next to the Doctor.

"Do you know him?" the Doctor asked.

Sam said tightly, "Too well."

"He's the one that helped Dean become a demon," Gabriel said.

That certainly explained Sam's reaction.

"Seriously, Gabriel, how long were you watching us?" Sam asked.

Gabriel grinned at Sam and went over to join Dean talking to Crowley.

The Doctor gave the rings to River and said, "Keep these safe." River rolled her eyes as the Doctor followed the Winchesters.

"You can't seriously be considering opening the cage? What kind of morons are you? Can't keep the idiocy reined in, so you destroy the world with it?" Crowley shouted.

Dean glared at him.

Crowley said, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering you cured away the only shot you had at pulling this off."

Dean said, "The mark wouldn't have been enough for Lucifer."

"The mark? No, of course not," Crowley said, "The mark of Cain on Michael's vessel? No power on earth could have stopped you."

"Except the First Blade breaking. We're doing this, Crowley. Cas is down there," Dean said.

"You broke the First Blade?! How could you-what kind of idiotic, stupid-" Crowley sputtered. He took a breath and said, "Of course this is about Castiel. Isn't it always about that feathered blunder? I know damn well where he is. Why else do you think I gave you a copy?"

"You made the doppleganger?" the Doctor asked.

Crowley asked, "Who the hell is this?"

Well that was rude.

Sam asked, "Why would you make a copy of Cas?"

"To keep you from doing this!" Crowley shouted, "I know how you two are with that angel. You would've ripped open the cage just to sacrifice yourself for him just like he did for you, but you'd bring about a damn apocalypse. And Dean falls all over himself around the guy. You think he wouldn't jump at the chance to pull Cas out of hell? If you knew he was missing, you would've broken the world. Again. I couldn't let that happen. I won't let that happen. Lucifer needs to stay in his box."

Crowley's eyes flashed red, but it didn't last long. Gabriel snapped his fingers, and Crowley was gone.

"If we're going to do this, we need to do it now," Gabriel said.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic as River, Sherlock, and John joined them. River handed the Doctor the rings.

"Are you really sure about this?" the Doctor asked Gabriel.

Gabriel said, "Yeah. Quick in and out. No big deal. Let's do this."

"Thank you, Gabriel," Dean said.

"I'll get him back," Gabriel said.

Sam hugged Gabriel, and the Doctor quickly studied the rings in his hand. He set his sonic to the frequency missing from the trio of rings, making them fuse together with the sonic in the order Gabriel had instructed.

"Don't wait up," Gabriel said to Sam. The archangel looked at the Doctor and nodded.

The Doctor placed the rings and his sonic on the ground. "Good luck," he said.

Sam said, "Aperire sub custodia. Tacitus morbus et aperi."

The rings with the sonic screwdriver pressed into the earth to open a dark chasm.

The Doctor had seen portals to different dimensions opened before, but it was still quite the sight. The shadow behind Gabriel showed a pair of large wings unfurling, and the Doctor would've been lying if it wasn't fantastic. With the sound of flapping wings, Gabriel was gone.

The cage was colder than Gabriel had anticipated. The place was also much bigger. He couldn't sense his brothers at all. The darkness made it impossible to see, so he felt his way through by sensing energies. The walls were particularly bright with energy.

His hand touched the wall, and the metal singed his skin painfully. Gabriel whipped his hand back, looking at the energy of the wall. The same metal of angel blades composed the walls. Touching it for too long could probably kill him. He almost felt bad for having to leave his brothers in such a place.

As he made his way in, Gabriel wondered if Cas was even still alive. The further into the cage he flew, the colder it felt. Gabriel started to notice ice building up on the walls. The cold made sense when he remembered Lucifer was in his true form. His brother always did run cold.

That's when he felt them. He felt the archangels' dormant graces only yards away. He should've felt them sooner. His brothers weren't conscious, but he knew the second he used his grace, they'd feel it and probably attack. The only way to fly with Cas' essence was with his grace, though. He'd have to be especially fast.

Gabriel wasn't the strongest archangel, but he was more than an archangel. He was a trickster, and a damn good one at that. What better trick than to take away Lucifer and Michael's chew toy? He could do this.

Gabriel took a deep breath. Lashing out with his grace, he wrapped his power around Castiel and pulled the younger angel to him. Gabriel could barely feel any life in him. As he was about to flee, Gabriel felt something else. Something that's cold energy poked at the back of his mind.

"Oh my father," Gabriel breathed. He pulled what remained of Adam Milligan to him. That poor kid.

Lucifer grabbed Gabriel by the throat and slammed him into the wall. Gabriel screamed from the pain of being pressed against the anti-angel wall. He could feel his wings burning. He was careful not to let Castiel touch the wall. The pain was near blinding.

"Oh, my little brother," Lucifer said, "What have you done?"

Michael raced past them in a burst of bright light towards the surface. He couldn't let Michael get out, not if they wanted to keep the apocalypse from happening.

Gabriel pulled Lucifer towards him as he felt one of his wings burn through to the bone. He slammed Lucifer's essence as hard as he could against the wall, and flew as fast as could out of the cage.

He couldn't let Michael reach the surface. His wings hurt sharply and ached terribly as he overtook his brother. He could do this.

The Doctor stared into the void, deeply concerned that Gabriel wasn't coming back. He'd been gone for several minutes, but the Winchesters had informed him that time worked differently in Hell. He hadn't the slightest idea of how long the archangel had really been gone.

A bright light started to shine towards the bottom of the hole.

"Look at this!" the Doctor called. He had no idea what he was seeing. It just looked like a bunch of light.

Sam looked into the hole and said, "Shit."

Within seconds, Gabriel came careening out of the pit and landed with a thud holding Cas and someone else the Doctor had never seen.

"Close it! Close it now!" Gabriel shouted.

Sam said, "Claudantur," and held out his hand as the rings and sonic flew to him. The ground sealed itself as the bright light was about to reach the top of the hole.

"Was that Michael or Lucifer that we just blocked?" John asked.

Sam said, "It was Michael," as he knelt next to Gabriel.

The Doctor didn't want to know how Sam was able to recognize light waves, but he figured it had something to do with being locked in the cage himself.

Dean put a hand to Cas' face, but the Doctor could tell the angel was catatonic.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked Gabriel. Gabriel tried to sit up but winced and abandoned the effort. "Not quite, kiddo," he said, "But I will be. Just gotta heal."

"Can you be moved?" the Doctor asked.

Gabriel said in a pain strangled voice, "Yes."

"We're quite vulnerable out here, and I really didn't like the look of that Crowley fellow. Let's get them into the Tardis," the Doctor said.

Sherlock and Dean grabbed Cas' arms and feet, hauling him into the blue box.

Sam gingerly gathered Gabriel in his arms, saying a quick "I'm sorry" when Gabriel cried out from the pain.

"Who is this?" River asked, pointing at the unconscious man lying on the grass.

John said with wide eyes, "That must be Adam."

"Who's Adam?" the Doctor asked.

John said quietly, "It's Dean and Sam's half brother. Michael used him as a vessel when Sam put Lucifer back in the cage. They had to leave him in there. I can't believe he's still alive."

The Doctor looked at Adam and decided he'd scan that one first.

Back in the Tardis, the Doctor looked over the scans. They didn't look good.

"Good news or bad news?" the Doctor asked.

Dean asked, "What'd you find with Cas? Is he okay?"

"His grace is there, the scanner is picking up his wings. He's physically fine from what I can tell," the Doctor said, "He seems to be in a dream state. If he wakes up, wonderful. If he doesn't, there may be other problems we'll need to address. We'll have to wait and see."

"What about Gabriel?" Sam asked.

Gabriel said, "My dear brother almost burned my wings off. Otherwise, I'm peachy."

"The scan does indicate your wings are healing rapidly, though," the Doctor said with a forced note of optimism. Honestly, the scanner could barely read Gabriel's wings through the light they emitted.

Gabriel grinned and said, "Yeah, I know. Give me an hour. I'll be fine. It'll just hurt like a bitch until then."

"As for Adam," the Doctor started.

Adam sat up, gasping, looking around with pitch black eyes. "Where am I?" he asked. Before anyone answered, he saw Dean. "You," Adam growled, "You left me. You let me rot in hell. You monster, you could have just said yes. I hate you!" He lunged at Dean, but Gabriel jumped up and held Adam back, groaning with the effort.

"We're going to help you, you idiot, but we can't do that if you go around killing people," Gabriel said through gritted teeth.

"Help me. Right," Adam snapped, "Just like the other archangel. Look how well that turned out."

"Have you noticed that he's not here? He's still in the cage, but I got you out. I'm not like them," Gabriel said.

Adam struggled against him, and Gabriel touched him with a glowing hand, knocking him unconscious.

"The scan seems to be showing that Adam is a demon," the Doctor said.

"I am Jack's complete lack of surprise," Gabriel said, turning away from Adam.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed, "It's a Fight Club reference. You do watch movies, don't you, Sammy?"

"Thank you," Gabriel said.

John and Sherlock looked at them confused. River grinned, but the Doctor knew she had no clue what they were talking about either.

Gabriel gave a frustrated sigh and slowly laid down on his stomach so as not to put pressure on his mending wings. "You guys are so uncultured, it's killing me," he grumbled, "Fight Club is a great movie."

Sherlock ignored him and asked, "Is it possible to cure Adam?"

Sam put a hand on Gabriel's arm and said to Sherlock, "Yes, we can cure him. We'll need some things from the bunker first, but we'll fix this." Sherlock nodded.

The last thing the Doctor needed was an angry demon in his Tardis. He quickly flew the Tardis back to the bunker.


	21. The Hounds of Hell

An hour after arriving, Adam sat in the dungeon with demonic handcuffs keeping him contained, Dean prepared some African dream root after hearing that Cas' brain activity hadn't changed, Gabriel was back on his feet, and Sherlock had no idea what he was doing or why he was there. But if Gabriel was right about his being a fallen angel, Sherlock wanted to be more comfortable with this world that he was apparently a part of.

Sam grabbed a pack of syringes and asked Dean, "You sure you'll be alright here without us?"

Dean swished the dream root mixture around in a glass. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I need to help Cas, but somebody's gotta help that kid. You might want to take Benny with you in case Adam becomes a problem," he said.

"I'd like to help cure Adam," Sherlock said.

Sam asked, "You sure?"

Sherlock nodded.

Sam said, "Group field trip it is." He handed Sherlock the syringes and said to Dean, "Be careful. I don't want to have to trip on dream root to save your ass later."

"Duly noted," Dean said, "Well, bottom's up." He downed the disgusting looking tincture and promptly collapsed on the bed next to Cas.

"Is that how that always works?" Sherlock asked.

Sam nodded and said, "Yeah, it's definitely weird, but you get used to it."

Sam turned to the Doctor and asked, "You'll watch over them, won't you?"

"Of course. If Gabriel can't make the flight, tell River, and she'll take you."

"I will, will I?" River said with mock incredulity.

Sherlock found it safest to follow Sam down the hall to where Gabriel was standing watch over Adam.

"We doing this?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said.

Gabriel chuckled, "You, too, huh?"

When Sherlock entered the room, John sat across from Adam.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm coming with," John said, meeting Sherlock's gaze, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping to cure Adam," Sherlock said, "I would think you'd be getting back to Mary."

"She called to say she's alright and that Mrs. Hudson is taking good care of her. She said staying out with you was probably a good idea so I don't smother her," John said.

If Mary knew what John had told Sherlock, he doubted she would've suggested that.

"You can't cure me," Adam said quietly.

"Oh, really?" Sam asked, entering the room fully, "Why's that?"

Adam glared at Sam as he said, "Because I was down there too long. The fact that I'm a demon is the only reason I'm not dead."

Sam grinned, clearly not believing him.

"I'd need injections of angel blood to even have a chance at being human again, but the last I checked, that's not what you cure a demon with," Adam said.

"So, you're an expert now, huh?" Sam asked.

Adam said, "I learned a thing or two in the cage."

"You need my blood," Sherlock interrupted.

"What?" Sam and Adam asked in unison.

Gabriel laughed and said to Sherlock, "You're a quick thinker. I like that."

"You need angel blood but human blood," Sherlock said, "So, logically, you would need a human angel."

Sam looked at Sherlock curiously and asked, "Are you sure you want to give your blood for this?"

Sherlock nodded. It was better than doing nothing.

Gabriel clapped a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and transported him to an empty church. One by one, Gabriel brought the rest of them until John, Sam, Benny, Adam, Sherlock, and Gabriel all stood in front of several disused pews.

Benny and Gabriel sat Adam down on a pew and checked his restraints. John glanced at Sherlock, and there were so many unspoken things in that look that Sherlock practically threw himself towards Sam Winchester. Anything John needed to talk about needed to wait.

"What do you need me to do?" Sherlock asked Sam.

Sam said, "You know, I can do the blood thing if you want. It might take more blood, but if you're not comfortable-"

"No, it's fine. I want to help. And it's not healthy to lose so much blood. You cured a demon not very long ago. You should give your blood a chance to replenish," Sherlock said.

"You have a point," Sam said, "Well, the first thing you'll need to do is confess."

"Confess. Like going to confession?" Sherlock asked. He'd never given a confession. Not a real one anyway.

"Yeah, just confess your sins," Sam said, "It's just to unburden yourself so your blood is purer. Don't worry too much about it."

Sherlock tried not to over think it, but what counted as a sin anyway? Wasn't that something angels should know?

Sherlock walked over to the confessional and closed the door. It was darker than he was expecting.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Sherlock muttered to himself. He felt absolutely ridiculous.

"I never believed in God," Sherlock said aloud, "But if statues move, and I'm an angel, I suppose anything's possible." He took a deep breath and tried peering into the listening side of the confessional. The last thing he needed was someone hearing this train wreck of a confession.

"Sins. Hmm. Well, I lie a lot. I've lied, and deceived, and manipulated, and I did kill Magnussen, but I did it to get justice, so I'm not sure if that counts." He paused and looked around the dark closet sized booth. He was really quite bad at this. But people were waiting for him. Sherlock needed to at least try to take this seriously.

"I suppose I could just list regrets, right? I regret not having a better relationship with Mycroft. Well, it's not like he's the easiest person to have as a brother, so I don't exactly consider that one my fault or anything. Still, regret," he said.

Sherlock knew, though, his biggest regret. It smacked him in the face on a near constant basis. But saying it out loud was something he'd never done before. "I regret me," he said softly.

The words didn't bring about any catastrophic change. No debris came falling from the sky to wipe him from existence. Nothing changed from the confession. But if there was a God listening, Sherlock supposed he should elaborate.

"I regret myself. I'm always in the way. I was in the way of this whole case, I'm in the way of my best friend's happiness, I'm sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind if the upstairs flat was vacant. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I fell from Heaven because I was in the way up there, too," he said, "I'm even in the way of criminals in London, and that is the only good thing that has ever come of my being completely unwanted and out of place. Maybe if my blood works to cure Adam, I'll have an idea of why I exist at all, but my biggest regret has been and always will be me." The only time he'd ever remotely felt worth while was when he was working with John, but he was in the way again because of that.

Still, saying it all aloud did make him feel lighter in a way.

Before he left the confessional another thought popped into his mind. "Oh," he said, "And I definitely regret ever finding that video of Mrs. Hudson dancing on youtube. That was...an unfortunate discovery."

As he stepped back out into the church, John gave him a sideways glance. For a moment, Sherlock thought John may have overheard him, but he didn't get long to worry about it. Sam and Adam were clearly about to come to blows.

"I don't get why you're so hostile with us. We got you out of the cage. A little gratitude or at least respect would be nice," Sam snapped.

"You don't get it, do you?" Adam spat, "You put me there. You don't get points for saving me from a situation you put me in."

Benny put a hand on Sam's shoulder to move him away from Adam. He said, "The way I hear it, the angels forced you to be Michael's vessel. Yeah, you ended up in the hole, but that was stop the apocalypse. Sam was never supposed to get out and neither were you. It would start the end of the world all over again to open the cage."

"Then what the hell did he do?" Adam asked flatly, gesturing to Gabriel.

Gabriel said quickly, "I risked the apocalypse. It was stupid. It was a stupid plan, though I never said Dean was particularly smart."

"Where is Dean?" Adam asked with an edge to his words.

Sam said, "He's trying to figure out what's going on with Cas."

Adam laughed loudly, tilting his head back as his eyes flicked to black.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

Adam focused his dark gaze on Sherlock and said, "There's no fixing Castiel. It's hilarious that Dean would even try."

"What's wrong with Cas?" Sam asked.

Adam said, "Cas didn't fair any better than I did in the hole, but those angels were not happy that he tried to get you out of there. After Death got your soul out, Lucifer and Michael took out their frustration on Cas. It wasn't pretty. After he took as much as he could, Cas shut himself down. He's basically brain dead. What you saved from the cage is the shell of an angel and a pissed off demon. Are you happy now?"

Benny said quickly, "Son, if you want to go back to hell, I am more than happy to grant your wish. But if you want to stay here and keep those pretty teeth in your head, I'd change that attitude quick, you understand me?"

Adam, in a stroke of intelligence, met Benny's threatening gaze and stayed silent.

Sherlock tied the rubber tourniquet around his bicep, grabbed a syringe, and drew blood from his arm.

"It scares me that you're so good at that," John said.

Sherlock knew this was a reference to his former drug use, so he opted to ignore the comment. He bent his elbow to stem the blood flow and gave the full syringe of blood to Sam.

Sam took a deep breath and asked Adam, "Are you ready?"

Adam gritted his teeth but nodded reluctantly.

Sam, with surprising gentleness, pushed the needle into Adam's neck and pressed the plunger.

"Now, we wait an hour and do it again," Sam said.

Sherlock walked over to a dusty pew and sat down. He really wasn't a fan of waiting.

Over two hours later, they had completed the third injection and were waiting for Sam's timer to tell them to do the fourth. Sherlock sat on the same dusty pew, holding his arm up with his elbow bent. He wasn't feeling any effects of blood loss even though he was drawing 10cc's of blood at a time. He'd never really had an issue with wooziness from losing blood, but it felt unnatural now that he knew what he was.

John scooted into the pew next to Sherlock and asked, "How are you doing?"

"That's a complicated question, John," Sherlock said.

John faced Sherlock and said, "Seriously, Sherlock. Are you okay?"

"Not really," Sherlock said, "But there's not much to be done about that."

"What's going on?"

John asked. His friend was clearly concerned, but Sherlock just wanted to fix Adam and leave.

"I'm not very good at this whole fallen angel business," Sherlock said, "And I feel horrible for coming between you and Mary-"

"Sherlock, that's not-"

"I know you're staying with her, but I still feel responsible for causing strain on your relationship."

"You shouldn't feel bad for that. I told you how I felt, not the other way around. If any strain or whatever was put on my relationship with my wife, I put it there."

"I didn't have to reciprocate. I could've made it easier-"

"I don't regret telling you," John said.

Sherlock paused for a moment. "But you're still staying with Mary," he said.

John sighed and said, "I can't just leave her. I love her. It's complicated."

"Are you going to tell her how you feel about me?" Sherlock asked hesitantly. Honestly, he was just curious. He wasn't trying to cause problems or pressure John. He wasn't even sure if he wanted Mary to know. It would probably be easier for John if she didn't. But she was John's wife. She should know.

"I don't know," John said, "I do suppose you'll be impossible to live with if I don't tell her, though."

"Well, you won't be living with me, so it shouldn't be a problem for you either way," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock-" John started.

Sam called over, "Sherlock, it's time for round four. You ready?"

Sherlock gladly got up, grabbed a syringe, and gave Adam the fourth injection.

"That's really starting to sting," Adam said.

Sam seemed like he was on the verge of saying something, but Gabriel said, "Here. Give me your hand."

Adam looked at Gabriel skeptically but slowly let the archangel take his hand. With a small burst of light from Gabriel's hands, Adam gasped.

"What the hell did you do?" Adam asked.

Gabriel grinned and said, "I took away your pain. Seriously, for the next twenty four hours, don't hurt yourself. You won't be able to feel it."

Adam cracked his neck and seemed pleasantly surprised. "Thanks," he said softly. Gabriel patted Adam on the shoulder and plopped next to Sam on a pew.

Sherlock looked over at John, but he was in no hurry to continue that conversation. Instead, he sat away from the others in a far pew and tried to relax.

Five injections in, Sherlock's arm was a bit sore, but otherwise, he seemed to be fine. John had thankfully taken Sherlock's standoffish behavior as a sign that he wanted space.

Benny, however, took the opportunity to come and talk to Sherlock. The man's presence wasn't exactly unwanted but definitely unexpected.

"So," Benny said, sitting down next to Sherlock, "For a guy who volunteered to do this, you seem like you really don't wanna be here."

Sherlock stayed silent. He didn't know Benny nearly well enough to respond to something like that.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, but you seem like you didn't know about being a fallen angel till recently. I might be completely nuts, but if that's what's eating at you, I get it," Benny said.

After a moment, Sherlock asked, "You 'get it'?"

"I'm a bit of an expert on being not quite human," Benny said, "You just gotta remember that what you are doesn't define who you are."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked.

Benny said with a grin, "I see Dean hasn't been talking about me." He pulled back his lips, exposing his gums, and extended several sharp fangs.

Sherlock scooted back, trying not to show just how confused he was.

Benny retracted his fangs and laughed, "It's okay. I don't bite. That's what I'm trying to say. I'm a vampire, but that's not who I am as a person. You're a fallen angel, but that doesn't mean you have to get your grace back and start playing a harp up by the pearly gates. You can do whatever you want. It's your life. If you want to go get your halo, you can, but if not, you can just go back to your life. You'll just know a little bit more about yourself is all."

Sherlock contemplated his words. While it didn't help with the situation with John and Mary, which weighed most heavily on his mind, it did help to hear those words. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Maybe he could get his grace back, or at least, he could try to get his memories back. But he didn't have to do anything because he was an angel. He didn't have to get acquainted with this supernatural world just because he used to be part of it. Benny was right, and it helped greatly.

"Thank you, Benny," Sherlock said.

Benny stood up and said, "Don't mention it, brother."

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock gave Adam the sixth injection. It seemed to be working since Adam had mellowed considerably, but since Gabriel numbed Adam's pain, it was hard to tell what progress they were really making.

On the second to last injection, Adam's emotions let them know they were definitely getting somewhere.

As the needle left Adam's neck, the young demon asked, "Why are you even bothering to cure me?"

Sam said, "It was my fault you were in there in the first place. Fixing past mistakes, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Adam said, "But what am I supposed to do when I'm human? I have no family, my mom's still in Heaven, and I have nowhere to go."

Gabriel said, "You could do whatever you want. You could go back to school, travel, get a new lease on life. Whatever you want to do."

Adam struggled not to cry and said, "I don't want to be alone anymore."

Sam said, "Well, you don't have to be alone. The world's full of people. But if you want people who will understand what you've been through, there's more than enough room at the bunker. You've got family if you want us."

"You'd let me live with you guys?" Adam asked.

"Sure we would. You're family," Sam said, "And it's certainly never boring around there."

Sherlock started to wonder if they'd let him stay at the bunker. He'd miss Baker street, but he'd probably be able to do some good with the Winchesters.

"No kidding," Gabriel said, "With the shit you boys get into, boredom might feel like a vacation if it ever happened."

Sam stared at Gabriel and turned to John, saying, "Does it say in the books how long he's not been dead?"

John shook his head and said, "I was as shocked as you were when he showed up."

Sam turned back to Gabriel and asked, "How long have you been watching us, Gabriel? Seriously?"

"Would you get mad if I said I always keep tabs on you two?" Gabriel asked impishly.

"Gabriel. Straight answer. Please," Sam said.

"Straight answer? Fine," Gabriel said, "Well, I was watching when you were born since you guys were supposed to end the world. Got curious about the hunting thing, so I tested you at that one college. I had to lay low after Lucifer killed my double, so I guess there were a couple days in there that I took a break, but really, I've been watching you guys your whole lives."

Sam gaped at Gabriel.

"See, that look. That look right there. That's why I didn't want to tell you. Just think of me as a guardian angel so it doesn't seem so creepy, okay?" Gabriel tried.

Sherlock walked away as Sam continued interrogating Gabriel. He sat on a pew and took a deep breath. Maybe he could get his grace back and watch over John that way. It would ease the situation with Mary, but he'd probably be in Heaven more. That could leave a lot of people vulnerable in London. If he didn't have such a high client base, maybe he could consider really being an angel, but there were crimes to solve and puzzles to sort out.

By the time they gave Adam the last injection of Sherlock's blood, the consulting detective was much more at ease with the idea of staying human. Adam's black eyes retracted to reveal his hazel. He coughed and gasped and asked Sam, "What happened to you when you got your soul back?"

Sam said, "It wasn't pretty. I nearly died."

Adam closed his eyes. "That's what I thought," he said, "Am I going to die?"

Gabriel said, "Not unless you want to. If you go catatonic from hell exposure, I can put blocks in your brain to help you. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out, okay?"

Adam looked at the archangel and said sincerely but weakly, "Thank you."

"Did it work?" Sherlock asked.

Adam focused for a moment and said, "I think so. I can't flick my eyes or smoke out. I feel sort of cemented. God, it's dizzying."

Sam took off the now useless demon handcuffs and pocketed them.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and they all were back in the bunker.

Adam collapsed, not being able to handle his own weight. Sherlock, standing nearest to him, caught him under his arms.

They helped Adam get into a bed in one of the bedrooms.

Before anyone could leave the room to let Adam rest, the former demon said, "Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam looked at Adam, confused, and asked, "For what?"

"I should've listened to you and not trusted the angels. I should've fought harder against Michael. I'm sorry I let them find me. None of this would've happen if I'd just listened to my brothers," Adam said.

Sam said softly, "Well, it's over now. Rest up, and we'll take care of you. I'm gonna check on Dean, but I'll be back, okay?"

Benny said, "I'll keep an eye on the kid." Adam closed his exhausted eyes as Sam went to check on Dean.

Sherlock didn't know what happened to someone if they took dream root for a person who was a shell like Adam had said, but it definitely seemed like cause to worry.

Instead of following Sam, Sherlock stayed with Adam. He felt good knowing his blood had been able to give Adam his untwisted soul back. He knew if he stayed with the Winchesters or at least kept himself involved in the supernatural world that he'd be able to help more people like this. But Sherlock knew where he belonged, and that was Baker street. The situation might be complicated, but it was the right thing to do. He was needed there. And it felt so good to know that.


	22. The Man Who Would Be King

Dean had no idea where he was. He stood in the middle of an ice covered lake in the dead of night with snow and ice blanketing the surrounding wooded area. When he'd been in Bobby's head, it had clearly been a house. Charlie's nightmare had been a hospital. But Cas? Cas' dreamscape seemed to be all ice and cold and dark. It was picturesque, but it definitely wasn't what Dean had been expecting. Cas had to be around there somewhere.

Slowly, Dean started to walk towards the white banks of the lake. The ice groaned beneath his weight, but he wasn't too worried about falling in. He was a good swimmer and had dealt with much worse.

Dean got to the sloped banks, much more worried about the cold than anything. It was freezing. Even beneath his leather jacket, Dean felt himself beginning to shiver. And it was getting colder. Where the hell was Cas?

Dean headed into the surrounding woods as he called, "Cas?"

There was no reply.

Dean started walking through the trees, looking for footprints in the snow, tracks of any kind, anything that would lead him to Cas. It reminded him of searching for Cas in Purgatory, and that feeling made ice pump through his veins.

"Cas!" Dean shouted.

Still no answer.

He needed to get to higher ground to see what he was dealing with. He headed uphill through the snow to get a better vantage point. If Cas' subconscious world was too big, they could both be here for a long time.

Once he reached the top of the hill, Dean smacked his fingers together to get some feeling back in them from the cold. He needed to get higher. He swung a leg up on the lowest branch of the nearest tree and started climbing upwards. He was only able to climb a few branches up before they started to bend in a worrisome manner.

Still, Dean got up high enough to see a small stone building in the distance through the leaves. Considering how significant buildings are in dreams, Dean knew exactly where to look first.

As he climbed down the tree, he heard someone say, "Well, if it isn't the righteous man."

Dean had been expecting to see weird things in here, but Uriel certainly wasn't one of them.

"Uriel," Dean said, "And here I was, hoping I'd never see your ugly face again."

Uriel smirked, and Dean headed off in the direction of the building.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow and ice made Dean groan. "You know this is a dream, right? You're dead. You don't need to annoy me postmortem," he said.

Uriel laughed and said, "Funny. Yes, this is a dream, but the real world is still out there. You must be a rare kind of idiot for being in here."

Dean ignored him and kept walking in the direction of the building.

"You left Sam out there, unprotected. You left your body and Cas' body vulnerable. You're going to let them all down like you always do. How long until this dream becomes an afterlife?" Uriel said.

Dean stopped and punched Uriel hard in the face.

Since this was a dream, there weren't real world repercussions, and he'd wanted to plant his fist in that asshole's face for a long time.

Uriel stumbled back and disappeared, letting Dean travel on in silence.

The silence didn't last long.

"Dean Winchester," Zachariah greeted.

Dean walked past him.

Zachariah followed and asked, "Why the cold shoulder?"

"Not in the mood for a douchey angel convention," Dean snapped. He could see smoke coming from the roof of the building. He was almost there.

"So, we're looking for Castiel again. You know, if he really wanted to be with you, you'd think he'd stick around more," Zachariah commented gleefully.

Dean ignored him.

Zachariah stopped and called after him, "Just face it, Dean. You lost him. Which makes him no different than everyone else you've ever cared about. You should really be used to this by now."

Dean turned around, tempted to bury another angel blade in his skull, but Zachariah was gone.

"Hey, Dean," came a voice.

Dean closed his eyes in irritation. "You know, dreams usually only have a few manifestations. What is this? A victory lap of everyone who's fucked me over?" he asked.

Ruby grinned and said, "That's sweet, really. But I didn't do anything to you. I saved your life, I saved your brother's life, I did everything you asked, and you stabbed me with my own knife. If that's what you call gratitude, I can't wait to see what you do to Castiel."

"Shut up," Dean said. The corner of the building was just in view. He was close.

"How's Sam been doing?" Ruby asked, "You guys back to being the best of brothers now that I'm dead?"

Dean kept walking.

"No? Wow. Maybe that's because he blames you for ruining his chances at a normal life? Have you ever thought that maybe Sam chose me over you because he can't stand you?" Ruby asked venomously, "Ever wonder why your angel jumped in the cage without even mentioning it to you? I mean, he didn't even say goodbye. Maybe it's just you. Sam had premonitions, Castiel had angel powers, and you are supernaturally good at driving everyone away. Maybe that's just your gift."

Dean reminded himself that this was just a dream, and it wasn't his dream so he couldn't just manifest the Colt and blow the demon's head off with it no matter how much he wanted to.

By the time he reached the building, Ruby had vanished. He hated knowing that whatever the manifestations said were thoughts he had in his own head. Crowley was right. No one hated Dean as much as Dean did.

As he reached the door of the building, he heard a familiar voice.

"Going to find Clarence?" Meg asked.

Dean quickly reached for the door, but Meg shut it quickly.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," she said.

Dean sighed and pushed Meg to the side.

"Even if you find him, he won't go with you," Meg said.

Dean paused and asked, thoroughly annoyed, "Why? Why wouldn't he go with me?"

Meg gestured to her nurse scrubs and said, "Who do you think has been taking care of him in here? Who did he trust and rely on when you left him alone in that hospital? Who fought for him and died for him while you were just concerned with a piece of rock with writing on it? Hell, who did he have his first kiss with? I'll clue you in, it wasn't you."

Dean gave her a sarcastic smile and turned back to the door. He was in no mood to listen to her.

"Who's he going to choose when you ask him to leave, you or me? His track record would suggest you're just flat out of luck," Meg said.

Dean turned back to Meg, grabbed her scrubs, and slammed her into the side of the building.

"You're just an insecure part of my subconscious that thinks I'm not good enough for Castiel," Dean snapped, "And I'm sick of listening to you. You wanna know how I know that Cas is going to come with me? Cas pulled me out of Hell. He did everything I asked. He always came when I called. And you said it yourself, he was my boyfriend first. I don't care if I'm not good enough for him. He saved me again and again. Now, I'm going to save him, and you're going to get the hell out of my head."

Meg smirked and said, "Whatever you need to tell yourself, honey." She vanished before he could say or do anything else.

Dean quickly went for the door to the building before any other dead angels or demons could distract him.

Inside the building, it was much, much colder. Dean gasped. His fingers ached with the cold. He stuck his hands in his pockets. His breath came out as a puff of white. The air was so cold, breathing grew difficult.

Then, he heard that voice, that all too familiar voice.

A light flickered on overhead as Alastair said, "Hello, Dean Winchester."

Alastair was tied with chains to a sophisticated devil's trap. Dean knew the room. He knew the scenario. He knew there was a part of him that wouldn't mind torturing Alastair again.

But he needed to find Cas.

"Care for seconds?" Alastair asked.

Dean searched the room, looking for a side room or a staircase, anywhere the building could continue to where Cas might be.

Alastair laughed, "No? You don't want another go at me? My how we've changed, Dean."

Dean continued to ignore him. If he gave Alastair a reaction, nothing good would come of it.

"Good," Alastair said, "This is the part that scares the angel more anyway."

Dean glanced at Alastair, but he was gone. When Dean turned around the demon stood in front of him.

"Remember those leaky pipes?" Alastair asked. He punched Dean hard across the face.

Dean dropped to the ground, pain pulsing through his jaw and temple. He remember this completely. A hanging light flickered in the corner, and that was when Dean saw Castiel.

Cas struggled against ice covered chains where he was suspended against the back wall.

"Dean!" Cas shouted as Alastair grabbed Dean's shirt and hauled him up to his knees.

Alastair's fist connected with Dean's face again and again. Dean collapsed to the floor again, but it only lasted a moment. The demon grabbed Dean around the throat, Dean's blood pooling down Alastair's fingers. Alastair pressed Dean against the devil's trap and hoisted him by his neck inches off the ground.

"Dean! No!" Cas screamed, trying his hardest to pull his arms from his icy restraints.

"You've got a lot to learn, boy," Alastair hissed, "So, I'll see you back in class, bright and early, Monday morning."

"Cas!" Dean managed to shout, "This is a dream!"

Cas kept struggling and calling out for Dean.

Alastair grinned and closed his fingers tighter around Dean's throat.

Despite being strangled, Dean kicked Alastair as hard as he could in the solar plexus.

Alastair stumbled back, and Dean ran for Cas. He grabbed the angel blade out of Cas' trench coat, and he turned around just in time to dodge a blow from Alastair.

Dean quickly sank the angel blade into Alastair's chest, watching the life spark out of him.

Cas said weakly, "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean went over to Cas and said, "Yeah, I'm okay. This is just a dream. If you wake up, we can both get out of here."

Cas shook his head and said, "No."

"Seriously, I took dream root to get here. It's definitely a dream. If you focus, you could probably manipulate this world. You just have to wake up," Dean said.

"I can't," Cas said, "I've tried changing things. I can't. I know it's a dream, but I can't wake up, Dean. I'm sorry."

Cas' lips were blue, and he looked paler than normal.

Dean decided to prioritize. "Okay, we'll figure it out. Let's get you out of here," he said.

"There's a lock on the left," Cas said.

Dean looked at the keyhole. It was rusty from all the ice, but it seemed functional. Dean felt his pockets for his lock pick. Luck was finally on his side.

Within minutes, Dean had picked the lock, but the chains did not fall away. The ice was keeping the chains attached to Cas. Dean knew what to do, but he didn't like it.

"Cas, the chains are frozen to you. If I get you down, it's going to hurt," Dean said.

Cas nodded and said, "I have felt worse pain, Dean. I can handle it."

Dean stretched his fingers and tried not to worry about the lack of feeling. He grabbed the top chain tightly and said, "I'm sorry."

Dean ripped the chain away from Cas, parts of Cas' trench coat, shirt, and skin from his hands coming with it. Cas screamed in pain.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, scared, "I'm so sorry. You okay?"

Cas gasped, "Keep going."

Dean clenched his jaw and pulled away the other two chains as quickly as he could. Cas collapsed down from the wall, gasping for breath against the pain and cold.

Dean gathered the angel in his arms and brought him outside. Even though the outside was still icy and snow covered, it was still quite a bit warmer than the room they'd just left.

The skin on Cas' hands healed as Dean pulled Cas into a hug.

"Dean?" Cas asked, confused, "What are you doing?"

"This might be a dream, but you're dangerously cold," Dean said. Cas didn't argue, but he remained stiff in Dean's arms.

Once Cas' skin didn't feel quite so frigid, Dean released him and saw the perplexed expression on Cas' face.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Dean asked.

"The cage," Cas said, "But I'd rather not talk about that."

Dean asked, "What about before the cage?"

Cas said, "I was in the car with you. You said you were going to kill God. You had a point, though. You deserved better. Sam deserved better. I left to see if I could get Sam out. I pulled up his body and jumped in the cage for his soul. And I failed you."

"You didn't fail us," Dean said, "I still can't believe you sacrificed yourself for Sam."

Cas stayed silent and let his eyes wander from Dean's face to the snowy ground.

Dean asked softly, "Cas, why can't you wake up?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Cas said.

"I took dream root to get here, Cas. You know what that means. If you don't wake up, I don't either. You gotta tell me what's going on," Dean said.

Cas looked at Dean with that intense blue stare. He said, "You shouldn't have come in here. I can't wake up. If I do, I'll die."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"My brothers hurt me," Cas said quietly, "They burned off my wings and broke me in ways that I...I had to put myself in a suspended state of animation in order to survive. If I wake up, I'll be in so much pain without enough grace to fix it. I'll die. The damage they did to me is not the kind one survives."

"Gabriel is with us," Dean said, "If you wake up, he can help. He can heal you."

"Gabriel is dead," Cas said.

"No," Dean said, "He's not. How do you think we got you out of the cage without starting another apocalypse?"

"You got me out?" Cas asked, staring at Dean with wide eyes.

"Yeah, Cas. We got you out. We would've come sooner, but we didn't know. Crowley made a duplicate of you, and we had no idea you were-" Dean started.

"Crowley made a copy of me? Why?" Cas asked.

Dean said, "Because he knew I'd do anything to get you out."

Cas looked at Dean, confused.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Why did you come back for me?" Cas asked.

Dean looked at his feet. This wasn't exactly a conversation he wanted to have while they were stuck in Cas' subconscious.

"There's a lot you've missed," Dean said, "It's 2014. We've been through a lot over the last few years. I'll have to fill you in on what your copy has been up to."

Cas nodded and said, "That doesn't answer my question, Dean."

"I couldn't just leave you in there. I need you," Dean said quickly. He met Cas' gaze reluctantly.

Cas studied Dean's face for a moment before saying, "I've died for you twice already, I suppose I can do it again."

"You're not going to die, Cas," Dean said, "You'll be okay. I promise."

"You're a good friend, Dean," Cas said, "But you don't have to lie to me."

"I won't let anything happen to you, Cas," Dean said.

Cas closed his eyes.

Dean recognized the look on Cas' face. It was the look he got when he was facing his death.

Dean grabbed Cas' hand, forcing Cas to look at him.

"Good things do happen, Cas," Dean said softly, "I love you, nothing bad is going to happen."

Cas stared at Dean in shock as the sky around them turned brighter, almost unbearably bright.

Dean gasped as he woke up. He turned to Cas, leaning over him.

"Cas?" Dean tried.

Cas opened his eyes and looked at Dean. His eyes were tight. When he couldn't hold it back any longer, Cas let out a blood curdling scream as blood poured from his back onto the mattress beneath him.

"Shit, Cas!" Sam shouted, alarmed at the blood.

Dean grabbed Cas' hand, locking eyes with Cas, and shouted, "Gabriel!"

Gabriel rushed in the room and looked at Cas with fear in his eyes. "Turn him over," he snapped.

Dean and Sam flipped Cas onto his stomach, eliciting cries of pain from the broken angel.

Gabriel touched Cas between the shoulder blades, and his back was healed.

"What did they do?" Gabriel muttered to himself angrily.

The archangel closed his eyes, focusing. He reached his glowing hand into Cas' back, making the younger angel scream. Gabriel's eyes glowed with grace for a moment before he retracted his hand and slowly backed away from his brother.

"I'm so sorry, Castiel," Gabriel said.

Cas gasped against the mattress.

Dean looked from Cas to Gabriel. "What just happened?" he asked.

Gabriel said, "They burned his wings completely off. I just healed the back wounds. And they destroyed much of his grace. He would've died from it draining away in less than a week. So, I ripped it from him. Castiel is human."

Cas started shaking, and it took Dean a moment to realize he was crying.

Dean asked, "But he's okay, right?"

Gabriel nodded.

Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas clung to Dean, crying silently.

"It's gonna be okay," Dean said.

Cas said with a tear thick voice, "I'm not an angel anymore. I can't-I don't know how-"

"It's okay," Dean said, rubbing Cas' back, "We'll figure it out. I'm here for you."

River tugged on the Doctor's sleeve, and they left, followed by Sam and Gabriel, to let Dean and Cas have some privacy.

All Dean cared about was that Cas was alive. They'd figure out the rest later. This Cas, the real Cas, had never been human, but at least he was alright. Dean held onto Cas until the former angel stopped crying.


	23. The Day of the Doctor

The Doctor ran his hands lovingly across the Tardis' front doors. It was time to go. He felt it.

Sam Winchester joined him outside the bunker. "Are you leaving?" he asked.

The Doctor apologetically said, "Other adventures out there and all that."

Sam nodded and said, "You are going to say goodbye to everyone, right?"

"In a way, I have to," the Doctor said, grinning, "River's still inside."

They walked back inside. River sat with Dean and Cas while John sat near where Sherlock and Gabriel were talking quietly.

River looked at the Doctor and said, "It's that time, isn't it?"

"I'm sure we'll see everyone again, but yes," the Doctor said.

River gave Cas a smile, and asked, "Doctor, would you come with me for a moment?"

Confused and curious, the Doctor followed River through the main room to a back hallway.

"We should keep travelling with them," River said.

"What?" the Doctor asked, "Why?"

"It's a big Tardis," she said, "And you need a companion."

"I thought you were coming with me," the Doctor said, shocked.

River smiled softly and said, "Of course, I'm coming, sweetie. But we need someone. To keep us human, to share the universe with. These people are fun."

"I believe you met Clara Oswald," the Doctor said, grinning, "Are you suggesting inviting these people along because they're all male?"

River gave him a teasing smile. "Well, let's at least offer John and Sherlock a ride home," she said.

The Doctor had thought that was a given, so he didn't argue in the slightest.

"And you have to admit that Dean and Sam are attractive," River said.

The Doctor sighed and said, "I'll go get Sherlock and John."

The two men were in the middle of some heated discussion when the Doctor walked up to them.

"I think it would be best if you didn't work cases with me anymore," Sherlock said.

John said, "Oh, you really think that would fix anything? I know you want me working with you. You'd just drive yourself mad while being a stubborn git."

"Of course I want you working with me, but it's part of the problem, John, and I can't-"

"Well, I see I'm interrupting," the Doctor said, "But River and I are leaving, and if you want a ride back to London, you'll either need to come with us or ask Gabriel."

Sherlock and John both stared at the Doctor as if they hadn't known he was there. Maybe they hadn't.

Sherlock recovered first. "I need to get back to Baker street. I can't speak for John, but I'll come with you," he said.

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock and said, "Of course I'm coming with. When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible, preferably," the Doctor said.

Gabriel walked over and looked at the three of them. "You're leaving? But it won't be fun around here anymore," he said.

"Hey!" Sam protested.

Gabriel grinned and said, "Seriously, it's been fun working with you guys. If you guys need anything, just pray to me, and I'll be there lickety split."

John said, "I'll keep that in mind."

The Doctor clapped a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, but goodbyes were never his style.

River stood in front of Sam and Dean, handing them a piece of paper. "It's the number of the Tardis. If you need us for anything, give it a ring," she said.

"We'll miss you guys," Sam said. Dean looked as uncomfortable with the goodbyes as the Doctor felt.

There was something the Doctor had to do before leaving, though.

He found Castiel where he was watching the others and asked, "Might we chat for a bit? I feel I should remind you of something you already know."

Cas glanced at the others but nodded and led the Doctor into the next room. "What do you want to tell me?" he asked.

"You existed before humanity, correct?" the Doctor asked.

Cas nodded, but his eyes drifted to the floor at the mention of humanity.

"You watched them evolve?" the Doctor asked.

Cas nodded again, giving the Doctor a confused look.

"Then you know how beautiful and wonderful they are," the Doctor said.

Cas reluctantly met the Doctor's gaze and said, "Yes, I do."

"And that's the point," the Doctor said, "Enjoy being human. There's such wonder in human life. Instead of watching, you can experience. It's not an opportunity everybody gets."

The corner of Castiel's mouth twitched up into a small smile.

"I know you don't really know me, but your doppelganger was very nice, so feel free to use that number River gave the Winchesters whenever you'd like," the Doctor said.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, but what is your name?" Cas asked.

The Doctor smiled and said, "They call me the Doctor. Apparently Heaven had some rumors of a man in a blue box protecting humanity. That'd be me."

Castiel stared at the Doctor with wide eyes.

The Doctor grinned, saying, "Take care, Castiel."

Everyone followed him out to the Tardis.

"Stay out of trouble," the Doctor said to the Winchesters as he opened the doors with a snap of his fingers.

Dean said with a grin, "Not a chance."

The Doctor waited for River, Sherlock, and John to board the Tardis before walking in and closing the doors behind him. He hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to Benny since the man was watching over Adam still, but the Doctor hated goodbyes anyway.

"Where am I dropping you?" the Doctor asked his passengers.

Sherlock said, "John's flat," at the same time that "Baker street" came out of John's mouth.

John looked at Sherlock, perplexed. "Why would we go to my flat? Mary's still at your place," he said.

Sherlock said, "I want to tell her, which would be significantly easier if you weren't there."

"You want to destroy my marriage without me even being present?" John shouted, "You've got to be bloody joking!"

"I just want to say goodbye to Mary," Sherlock said evenly.

John stopped and gave Sherlock a worried look. "Goodbye? What? No. Why?" he asked quietly.

"Baker street it is," the Doctor said loudly. He put in the coordinates and watched the four Winchesters outside the Tardis on the monitor as they started to dematerialize from the small Kansas street.

When they landed, John rushed out of the Tardis with Sherlock close on his heels.

"Where to, my dear?" the Doctor asked River.

"We can't just leave now," River said, "Sherlock is going to want a goodbye from you."

"We'll see him again," the Doctor tried.

River sighed and said, "Sweetie, I know you don't like endings, but we might not see him for a while. It'll be good for him and good for you. Go on, I'll be right here when you get back."

The Doctor huffed in frustration. That woman could be so infuriating. But he did suppose he should make sure John and Sherlock didn't kill each other.

The Doctor gave River a frustrated look before leaving the Tardis.

Sherlock said, "Goodbye, Mary," and turned around, almost walking straight into the Doctor.

"Thank you, Doctor, for everything. I have to go," Sherlock said.

Before the Doctor could said anything, the consulting detective was gone. A bit bewildered by Sherlock's sudden exist, the Doctor walked over to where Mary was sitting and John was pacing.

"What was that all about about?" the Doctor asked.

Mary shot a look at the frazzled John, saying, "I wish I knew."

Well, if Mary didn't know...and he hadn't been in the Tardis for very long. It just seemed like a lot of theatrics for a small love triangle problem.

The Doctor asked, "This isn't about John's feelings for Sherlock, is it?"

John stopped pacing and, turning several shades paler, looked at Mary for her reaction.

Mary stared at her husband in disbelief. "For God's sake, John," she said, "That's what's going on? The way you two were acting, you'd think somebody died! Not that I should be surprised. Drama queens, the both of you."

"You're okay with this?" John sputtered.

Mary said, "Of course I am! Go get Sherlock back here."

"You're really okay with this?" John asked.

Mary smiled softly and beckoned John closer. "If I wasn't okay with it, I wouldn't have married you. Any idiot with two eyes could see how in love with him you are. It's adorable, really. Now, if you still love me, and I know you do, go get Sherlock," she said.

John had to take a moment to process but quickly headed out the door.

The Doctor slowly headed towards the Tardis. There was only so much observing he could before going crazy. Or getting involved.

"I've got to-" the Doctor said, grasping for an appropriate excuse to leave.

"I'll tell them you said bye whenever they calm down about all this," Mary said.

"Thanks," the Doctor said.

Before he could return to the Tardis, River opened the door. "Doctor, I need you," she said.

He hopped into the Tardis after her and asked, "What's going on?"

"Do you see this transmission?" she asked.

The Doctor looked at the screen she indicated. "The one being broadcast through all of time and space at once?" he asked.

"Yes, that one," River said.

The Doctor looked at it again and asked, "How is it doing that?"

"No idea," River said with an excited grin.

"We should pick up Clara, she might want to come with for this adventure."

"Doctor, it might be dangerous."

"Might be? You don't know?"

"We're on the same time stream, Sweetie. I've got no more spoilers for you."

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

The Doctor quickly flew them from Baker street to Clara's area of England. Of course, when they landed, they were on some rural stretch of road a few miles outside of Clara's place. Perfect.

"Well," River said, "We could do the easy thing and fly over to Clara's house directly, or we could be complicated and cryptic and lead her here."

The Doctor gave her a knowing smile.

"Complicated and cryptic, then," River said, stepping outside the Tardis and grabbing the phone, "What's the number for her school?"

A half hour later, Clara parked her motorbike next to the Tardis console. Apparently, they hadn't been only a few miles away. Oops.

And she left the door open.

"Draft," the Doctor said.

Clara quickly snapped her fingers and closed the Tardis doors.

"When did you teach her to do that?" River asked, emerging from her room. The Doctor grinned at Clara's stunned expression.

"But you said you were dead," Clara stammered at River.

River smiled. "I got better," she said.

"Uh huh," Clara said, staring at River.

She processed rather quickly, however and asked, "So, where are we off to?"

"Not sure yet," the Doctor said, "Have to figure out where this transmission is coming from."

He picked up a disembodied and badly damaged cyberman head from under the console.

"Where did you get that?" River and Clara asked at the same time.

Before the Doctor could explain the origin of Handles, which he had so lovingly dubbed the cyber-head, the Tardis shook violently.

"What's happening?" Clara asked.

"We're taking off," River said.

The Doctor said quickly, "But the engines aren't going."

He raced to the door and saw they were being transported by a metal claw attached to a helicopter. He knew exactly who to call about this. Without hesitation, the Doctor grabbed the phone on the Tardis door and called Kate Stewart.

It seemed the transmission was going to have to wait.

But what was one more adventure in the meantime?


	24. The Reichenbach Fall

Sherlock walked down the street from 221B. He walked past a shop window and sighed. He remembered eating dinner there with John when they'd first moved in together. John had vehemently declared he wasn't Sherlock's date. Sherlock supposed he should've guessed at John's feelings from the constant denial. It had just seemed so impossible, and then John was married and expecting a child in what seemed like no time at all.

He should've seen this coming. Of course, it had to end like this. When Sherlock heard footsteps behind him, he dismissed it quickly as another Londoner out on the street. But the footsteps stopped.

"Sherlock," John said.

Sherlock turned around slowly. What could John possibly want? Sherlock had made it pretty clear that he wanted nothing more to do with John or Mary.

"John," Sherlock addressed cordially.

"I told her...well, the Doctor did, actually, but she's okay with this," John said quickly.

Sherlock was stunned. Why was Mary okay with this? What?

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"She's okay with us being together," John said, "I don't understand it either. Just, come back to Baker street so we can talk about this."

"This is preposterous," Sherlock said. Mary must not understand the extent of the affection Sherlock had for John. There was no possible way Mary would just be okay with all this.

John took Sherlock's hand, making Sherlock snap out of his head and focus on John.

"Why would I lie about this?" John asked.

Sherlock asked, "Why would you tell me you love me?"

"Because I do...love you, that is," John said, "Please, come back with me to Baker street."

"John, I don't-"

"Sherlock, please, for me. Come home," John said.

Sherlock paused. John was referring to Baker street as home. It might have been a slip of the tongue, but it was enough.

"Okay," Sherlock said. Could Mary really be on board with this?

Once they were back in Sherlock's flat, Mary fixed Sherlock with a hard stare. "Sit," she commanded.

Sherlock warily sat in his chair across from John's wife.

She said quickly, "I understand that you are in love with my husband. Is this true?"

Sherlock suddenly found it hard to breathe. He had no idea what to say to that. He knew Mary couldn't possibly be okay with any of this.

"Dear, it's okay. I just want to hear you say it. And if this is going to work, you're going to have to get used to me making you feel uncomfortable. I can't believe you aren't already used to it, honestly," Mary said.

Sherlock took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I love John."

Mary smiled and clapped her hands together. "Wonderful. John, come over here and take a seat. We have a lot to discuss," she said.

John gingerly sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair since Mary was sitting in his usual spot.

"First of all, if this is going to be a thing," Mary said, gesturing between John and Sherlock, "Then, are we all agreed that John and I will still be together as well?"

John said quickly, "Of course. I love you. I would never-"

Mary cut him off and said, "John, love, I know your feelings on the matter. Sherlock?"

"I would never do anything to interfere with your marriage," Sherlock said, "I also would never expect John to leave you."

Mary grinned widely. "Good," she said, "Then, I guess we should discuss living arrangements."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, it we're going to share John, it doesn't seem very convenient to live across town from you," she said.

Sherlock held his breath. This was too good to be true. The idea of them moving closer was amazing. Or was she expecting him to move? But he worked out of 221B. She couldn't possibly expect him to move. Did she?

"If Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind, I think John would probably enjoy moving back in downstairs," Mary said.

Sherlock looked to John.

John's eyes lit up and he smiled at his wife. "I'm not sure if the downstairs flat would have enough room for both of us and the baby, but it could work," he said.

She grinned knowingly and said, "The downstairs flat actually has more room than where we're staying now."

"Really?" John asked.

Mary nodded, saying, "You can ask Mrs. Hudson if you'd like. I did."

Sherlock asked, "So, you and John would be moving in here?"

Mary nodded and smiled at Sherlock. Sherlock paused for a moment, trying to find the right way to express his happiness and gratitude. He settled on a suitable response and hugged Mary. She returned the hug hesitantly perhaps due to surprise, smiling at Sherlock at he sat back down.

"So, this is really happening?" John asked.

"I have one more thing we need to discuss," Mary said.

Sherlock sobered slightly.

"As we all are well aware, I'm pregnant," Mary said softly, "While this child is not biologically yours, it will be John's. You'll be a stepfather, really. Are you prepared for this?"

Sherlock froze. He'd never had any responsibility over another living thing before, well aside from Redbeard, but he wasn't prepared to think about that at the moment. He didn't know how to respond. It was John and Mary's child. He'd defend it with his life. He knew he'd love the child unconditionally, but he had no idea how to raise a child or care for a child. Babies were definitely not Sherlock's area of expertise. But if he was going to be part of this small family, a baby was going to be a reality sooner rather than later.

"I can't say I'm prepared," Sherlock said, "But I'm willing to learn."

"Honey, that's not entirely what I'm saying," Mary said, "I'm asking if you're going to be a part of the baby's life."

"Oh," Sherlock said, "Yes, of course I will."

John took a hold of Sherlock's hand with a smile, and Mary grinned at the both of them. "Good," she said.

"So, this is really happening?" John asked again.

Mary nodded.

John turned to Sherlock and asked seriously, "Is this what you want? Me, Mary, and a baby?"

Sherlock gently squeezed John's hand. "Yes," he said, "You, Mary, the baby. All of it. You two are giving me a family. Of course this is what I want."

John leaned over on the arm of Sherlock's chair and kissed Sherlock. It took Sherlock a moment to comprehend what was happening, but he managed to kiss John back. It was different than kissing Janine. This felt real, like how he imagined genuine love felt. It was nice.

When they broke apart, looking at each other with some surprise but mostly joy, Mary was staring at them.

"God, that was adorable. Will you two be doing more of that?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

John laughed.

Before Sherlock could find a suitable response to anything that happened, Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said quickly, "John and Mary will be moving in downstairs. Is this alright?"

She said, "Oh yes, that's lovely, but I have something to tell you...about the thing I'm not supposed to talk about."

"Mrs. Hudson, there are a number of things you shouldn't talk about, which is this one?" Sherlock asked.

"The thing I'm not supposed to mention that you buried in the yard out back," she said.

"What about it?" Sherlock asked.

Mrs. Hudson wrung her hands nervously and said, "It's gone."

"What do you mean Moriarty's body is gone?" Sherlock asked.

Mary asked, "Wait, you buried Moriarty in the backyard?"

"It was a quick decision," John said. "Come and see," Mrs. Hudson said.

John and Sherlock ran down the stairs and out the back. The yard wasn't the biggest, but it had accommodated the hurried body disposal. The earth was completely dug up and inside the hole was a piece of paper held down with a small rock.

Sherlock grabbed the paper. This wasn't good.

"What does it say?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed and handed the paper to John.

It read, 'Fool you once, shame on me. Fool you twice, shame on you.'

"Why can't Moriarty just die?" John asked.

Sherlock said, "It's going to be okay."

"Yeah, the first time, I lost you, and the second time, we almost lost Mary. And you're just going to tell me it'll be okay?" John said in disbelief.

Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders and look him directly in the eye.

"Nothing will happen to you or Mary or the baby or me. I won't let it. I promise," Sherlock said, "This is just another case. We'll figure it out."

Sherlock led John back inside and back upstairs. With Moriarty back, they'd need to be prepared for anything. John handed Moriarty's note to Mary and plopped down in Sherlock's chair.

"Moriarty's back? How could he be back?" Mary asked.

"Well, he was a demon," Sherlock said.

"But Cas killed him," John said, "The demon in him died."

"Considering that we were working with people who nearly started another apocalypse, there might be something bigger at work here," Sherlock said.

"Another?" Mary asked.

"Long story," Sherlock said.

John asked, "Do you think we should call the Winchesters? I mean, Moriarty is a demon. It's sort of their thing."

"No," Sherlock said, "I think they've got their hands full with Cas and Adam."

"What's going on with Cas?" Mary asked, "Wait, did they save Adam?"

"Long story," Sherlock said.

"Same long story, actually," John said.

"I think we'll be able to handle Moriarty, I mean, we cured a demon already. The knowledge we've acquired from this case alone should be enough to at least give us an edge against him," Sherlock said.

"You did what?" Mary asked. Before Sherlock or John could say anything, she said, "Long story. I get it. But when either of you have a minute, you have really got to fill me in on what all happened."

"We may not need their help," John said to Sherlock, "But we should probably let them know that an extremely intelligent demon who now knows they exist is back on the loose."

"You make a very excellent point, John," Sherlock said.

John sat down with Mary as Sherlock pulled out his phone and called Dean Winchester. The phone rang against Sherlock's ear as he walked into the kitchen. He could feel it. The adrenaline of a new mystery, the thrill of a highly intelligent adversary.

From the kitchen, he heard Mary say loudly, "What do you mean you accidentally went to purgatory?!"

As the dial tone rang again, Sherlock knew he'd be able to protect his family. He knew everything would be okay. The game was on again.


	25. The Monster at the End of This Book

A phone rang in the Men of Letters bunker. It was in Dean Winchester's back pocket.

Dean surprisingly heard his phone over the cacophony of gunfire. "Hey, take five, guys," he shouted, pulling his phone out. Cas, Adam, and Benny all looked over at him in the firing range.

Dean answered his phone, "Hey, Sherlock. What's going on?"

"Moriarty isn't dead," Sherlock said.

"No shit," Dean said, surprised, "Do you guys want our help with him? Gabriel's out right now, but we can get over there when he gets back."

Sherlock said, "No, it's okay. I think we'll be able to take care of him ourselves. We just felt you may appreciate some advanced warning. Also, I do believe you have enough on your plate with your family."

Dean glanced at Cas, Adam, and Benny all holding pistols. Their targets so far had gone unscathed. Cas never liked guns, always preferring angelic tactics. Adam was raised a civilian, so Dean wasn't expecting high marks from him anyway. Benny, however, insisted that he was better with muskets and that pistols were awkward and small. His family being a handful didn't begin to cover it.

"Why warn us?" Dean asked, "The guy's got a hard on for you and John, not us."

"Cas killed him the last time, and he now knows you exist. He may widen his area of interest. Just be careful," Sherlock said.

Dean met Cas' concerned gaze and said, "Thanks for the head's up, Sherlock. I'll let the others know." He turned away from gun novices and asked quietly, "Are you sure you two can handle a psychopathic demon?"

"I believe we're up to the challenge," Sherlock said.

Dean sighed and said, "Okay. Well, if things get too hairy, give us a call. We're happy to help if you need us."

Sherlock said, "Thank you, Dean. I'll keep that in mind. Take care."

The call cut out.

Dean pocketed his phone, turning back to the others.

Cas asked, "Who was that?"

"That was Sherlock, warning us about a demon that may or may not be after us," Dean said nonchalantly.

Adam's eyes widened, and Benny asked, "Is this not a big deal?"

Dean shrugged and said, "We already have the King of Hell gunning for my ass, and I pissed off most of Heaven pretty recently. What's one more demon?"

"The bunker's safe, right?" Adam asked.

Dean took a few steps toward his half brother and asked, "You worried?"

Adam's jaw clenched. "Just not a fan of dying again," he said.

"Don't worry," Dean said, "It's a dangerous life, but we look out for each other. You work on that aim, and the fear gets easier to deal with."

Adam nodded, aiming his pistol at the target again.

Dean clapped a hand on Adam's shoulder and moved over to Benny, opening a cabinet behind him.

"I think you might prefer these," Dean said to the vampire.

As Adam squeezed off a round, Benny sauntered over. He saw the cabinet full of sharp daggers and throwing knives and grinned at Dean.

Benny gently picked up small silver blade, turned it over in his hand a few times, and threw it at his target, logging the blade right in the target's throat.

"I like these much better," Benny said, grinning widely.

Cas looked at Dean and stared at him in a way that Dean knew Cas wanted him to come over. It jarred him that he knew Cas' looks so well. He kept having to remember that most of his history with the former angel never happened. Or at least, it never happened with this Cas.

On the way over, Dean glanced at Adam's target. The kid had managed to shoot it in the chest. Not a fatal shot, but it was definitely improvement.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, "What's up?"

"I need to ask you something," Cas said.

Adam and Benny stopped threatening their targets and looked over at Dean and Cas. Dean pretended not to notice.

"Go ahead," Dean said.

Cas said, "I need clarification on something. What exactly is the nature of our relationship?"

Subtlety was never really Cas' style, was it?

Dean dragged Cas into the hallway, ignoring the laughter coming from Adam and Benny.

"What do you mean, Cas?" Dean asked.

"You haven't told me what my copy did while I was in the cage," Cas said, "But you did tell me before waking me up that you loved me. But that was yesterday, and this is the first time since then that we've been alone. You seem on edge with me. You help the others with their shooting but give me no instruction, you let me use your bed but you sleep in the kitchen, you say you're glad I'm out of Lucifer's cage yet you won't look me in the eye. The last I remember, you barely tolerated my presence. Now, I can't tell if we are friends or if you loathe me. It is incredibly confusing."

Dean sighed, frustrated. He really didn't want to tell Cas the things his doppleganger had done. It was hard enough seeing that Cas feel so guilty. Dean was not eager to let the real Cas feel that same sense of responsibility.

One thing at a time.

"Our relationship is complicated," Dean said, "We are definitely friends. I consider you family. Do you really want to talk about this now?"

Cas nodded. Of course he did.

"Alright, let me get Sam to make sure Adam and Benny don't accidentally kill each other," Dean said.

"Sam isn't here," Cas said, "He and Gabriel went out to a restaurant together."

Dean said, "I thought Gabriel said he was just going to pick up some supplies."

"That may be what he told you, but that isn't what he told me. They'll be back later."

Dean swallowed his irritation. He'd have words with the lovebirds later.

"Okay," Dean said, "They'll be fine without supervision for a few minutes. Let's talk."

He led Cas into his bedroom, sat him on the memory foam, and took a seat in the chair across from the bed.

"What do you want to know? Ask me anything," Dean said.

Cas asked, "Were you in a romantic relationship with my copy?"

Cas really was about as subtle as a brick.

"Yes," Dean said, "But it was a very recent development."

"That explains your behavior quite a lot," Cas said, "My copy reciprocated your affection, and you think that I do not."

"Am I wrong?" Dean asked. He meant it as a challenge. He was pretty sure if Cas had had feelings for him from the beginning, he would've said something sooner. Looking at Cas staring at him suddenly made him much less sure. "Wait, am I wrong?" Dean asked again, letting it sound much more like a question this time.

Cas said softly, "I saved you from Hell, I held your soul in my hands, I rebelled against Heaven for you, I died for you twice. How did it take you six years to figure it out?"

Dean got up from his chair and closed the distance between them with two quick steps. He crushed his lips to Cas' without a second thought. He had Cas back. None of the rest mattered. They'd figure it out.

When they separated, Cas asked, "Does this mean we are now in a romantic relationship?"

Dean lay back on the bed and said, "Dating, Cas. It's called dating. And yeah, we are if you want to be."

Cas smiled. "I would like that, yes," he said.

Dean returned the smile. Maybe good things did happen.

Cas lay down next to Dean and met his gaze with a serious expression.

"Could you tell me what my copy did while I was gone?" Cas asked after a moment.

Dean said, "Cliff notes version? Your copy became God, broke Heaven, released leviathans into the world, went to Purgatory with me, got mind controlled by an angel, and accidentally caused all the angels to fall. We fixed it, though."

Cas stared at Dean with widened eyes. "I need more details than that, Dean," he said.

So, he told him. He told him about Cas betraying them, about Sam's insanity, about the demon tablet, the angel tablet, Kevin. He told him about the Mark of Cain, which thankfully had faded from his arm. He told him about being a demon. He told him everything. And when Cas started to feel guilty for not being there, for not being able to help, Dean was there to remind him how loved he was.

About three hours later, Dean was helping Cas make cheeseburgers, showing him how to flip the burgers without burning himself, when Sam and Gabriel came stumbling into the dining room.

Dean saw them through the kitchen door, but he didn't get annoyed until he heard Gabriel say, "Dean's cooking? If I'd known that, I would've taken everyone out for dinner."

Dean stepped away from Cas and into the dining room. "You know, I know how to kill an archangel," he said, giving Gabriel a cold stare.

"Oh, I'm so scared," Gabriel mocked with an impish grin.

"I'm also your boyfriend's brother," Dean said, "You might want to appreciate that."

Sam gave Gabriel a look that clearly said he agreed with Dean.

Gabriel sat next to Adam silently, smiling up at Sam with an innocent grin.

"Besides, I didn't make these burgers," Dean said, "Cas did."

Cas came out of the kitchen with two more cheeseburgers and handed one to Dean.

"Thank you for teaching me, Dean," Cas said, "I feel like I'll need a lot of help with being human, and I'm glad that I have you to guide me through it."

Dean took Cas' hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, glad that he could help Cas unlike when Copy Cas had lost his grace.

"So, are you guys...?" Sam asked, gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

Dean said with a smile, "You bet your ass."

Gabriel hopped up out of his chair, so Cas could have somewhere to sit.

Cas protested, "No, I can stand. I'm fine."

"You have food," Gabriel said, "And I have a seat anyway." Gabriel dropped onto Sam's lap, earning a surprised grunt from Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes and ran his thumb over the back of Cas' knuckles. For a minute, it felt like this could be their lives. They could be happy, surrounded by family. This could be something he could get used to.

"This is cute and all, but don't we have to worry about the king of Hell, or that bit of Heaven you pissed off? Shouldn't we be doing something?" Adam asked.

Dean didn't drop Cas' hand when he said, "You're right. We've got a lot going on. Crowley is plenty pissed that I'm not the demon he wanted me to be, Cain still wants me to kill him, Hannah can't run Heaven by herself, there's a good portion of Heaven that thinks I deserve to die for what happened when Cas chose me over them, we have to figure out how to get the prophet line back up and running, I'm damn sure somebody's heard we opened Lucifer's cage, and then there's the normal family business we'll still need to be taking care of."

"So, what's the plan?" Benny asked.

Dean looked over at Sam.

Sam said, "Well, as far as Heaven goes, Gabriel's the only one equipped to get up there and figure out what's going on and how we can help. No idea what to do about Crowley."

"We'll figure it out," Dean said.

"I could pop up to Heaven and see how Kevin Tran is doing," Gabriel said, "If he's game, I could resurrect him and solve the prophet problem."

Dean nodded, and Gabriel disappeared in a rush of wind and feathers.

"I can see if there are any cases we can work on in the mean time," Cas said. He got up and left the room with Benny close on his heels, asking questions about research and what makes a case stand out as something supernatural.

As Dean watched Cas leave the room, he got that feeling again that this could work. His family breaking off to get shit done felt just so right. Sitting at the table with his brothers, knowing things with Cas were okay, knowing everyone he cared about was safe, made everything they were up against seem so much smaller.

Dean looked at Adam and said, "We definitely need to take you on a few hunts, get you ready for the big leagues." They'd be stronger as a team, so getting Adam up to speed was a high priority.

Sam said quickly, "Don't worry. We won't do anything too crazy until you feel more comfortable."

Adam smiled at his brothers and said, "Then, we've got work to do."


	26. The End

In the coming months, they all went about their own adventures.

The Doctor and River travelled with Clara to Trenzalore. Clara didn't take to the regeneration too well, and River didn't seem remotely surprised. Much to the twelfth Doctor's relief, River was thrilled that he stopped "looking like a child" as she put it. They saved the universe a few times, too, which is definitely nothing to scoff at. Despite the bickering, maybe even because of it, River made the Tardis feel even more like home.

Sherlock and John faced off against Moriarty a few times. Luckily, the demon only brought London to its knees once. Still, they handled the situation. Life with Mary and the baby was always an adventure. Several times, Mary would kick John and their child into Sherlock's bed so she could get some peace and quiet for at least an hour. Also on several occasions, Mary would work with Mycroft as an off the books intelligence agent, leaving John and Sherlock to look after the baby and their own clientelle by themselves. Sherlock loved every minute of it.

Dean finally realized Adam's proficiency at sniper rifles and stopped training him with handguns. Hunts became a lot easier with Adam providing cover whenever necessary. Even when he was in the thick of it, the youngest Winchester proved to be a fairly skilled hunter. Benny proved very useful on monster hunts since the vampire could sense them and provide advanced warning. He also found a piano in the back of the bunker and spent many hours filling the bunker with music that not even Dean could complain about. Sam and Gabriel seemed happy enough, especially because Dean had to establish boundaries about how far their displays of public affection could go. Really he drew the line at Gabriel using his powers to remove Sam's clothes. There were just some things that Dean had never wanted to see. And at the end of every day, no matter how beat up, cut up, or tired they were, Dean would crawl in bed with Cas and thank his lucky stars for going to hell and bringing this human angel into his life.

Our heroes never met again. The Doctor was often in a different time or on a different planet, the Winchesters were plenty busy with Heaven and Hell and everything in between, and Sherlock and John never really found the time. But the Doctor would feel some nostalgia if he saw a blue scarf waving a certain way. John and Mary continued to read the Supernatural books just to keep an eye on their friends if nothing else. And sometimes, on nights that Sam couldn't sleep, if he could hear over Gabriel's snoring, he could almost hear the Tardis landing.

They were never truly safe, and sometimes home didn't feel like home, but sometimes, on the rare occasion, they were really and truly happy. And it made everything worth it.


End file.
